The Twelve Gays of Christmas - A Love Story
by SalaciousCrumb
Summary: AU. Hetalia love stories based on classic fairy tales. One for each 'day of Christmas.' US/UK, GerIta, Spamano and others.
1. Prologue

**The Twelve Gays of Christmas - A Love Story**

**Prologue…**

Moonlight poured onto the earth, illuminating the snow so that it twinkled like the glittering stars above. Usually, the fumes from the city polluted the air into a cocktail of indigos but tonight it was perfectly clear. The city's street-lights had been switched off for an hour now and the citizens had gathered all across town to witness the imminent meteor shower. It was expected to be the largest for many years.

"It's so fucking cold," Lovino wrapped his arms around his waist and tried to burrow deeper into his jumper. They had been standing outside waiting for this dumb meteor shower for hours.

Roma turned to face him, his voice stern, "Watch your language young man."

Lovino rolled his eyes, it was so typical. He spent all his time doting on his precious Feliciano, but jumped on Lovino's back about every goddamn thing. He treated him as though he was still a child, "Grandpa I'm twenty-fucking-three, I can say what I want."

"You still live under my roof, and while you're under _my _roof you'll live by _my_ rules."

Lovino was about to retort when Feliciano interrupted him.

"What's that one called, Grandpa?" He pointed to one of the brightest stars, its powerful glow penetrating the endless darkness.

"Ah, Feli, good question. That one is called the Blue Fairy."

"Bull-shit," Lovino coughed under his breath.

Roma issued him a stern glare before turning back to Feliciano, "Remember, Feli; if you make a wish on a star, it's sure to come true."

"Wow, really, grandpa?" Feliciano gazed up to the sky in wonder.

"Wishing on stars is for babies," Lovino grumbled, folding his arms impatiently.

"Don't listen to him, Feli, he's just jealous because he is not a believer like us," Roma winked. "The blue fairy will not grant _his _wish."

Lovino raised his arms in frustration, "For god's sake! Stars do not contain fairies. They are just the other suns in the galaxy."

Feliciano smiled at him, "Wow, Lovino, you're so smart."

Lovino smiled at him for a moment, giving him a brief squeeze on the arm. Unfortunately, this display of brotherly love was short lived because Feliciano began talking again. "So if stars aren't fairies, where do fairies come from?"

"For god's sake, Feliciano. Fairies don't exist."

"Lovino, you _mustn't _say that!" He raised a hand to his lips, "Every time you say that a fairy _dies._"

Instead of responding, Lovino threw his arms into the air in defeat and went to sit alone.

"Fairies _do _exist don't they, grandpa?" Feliciano shot a worried glance up at Roma who smiled dotingly and pulled him into a hug.

"Of course they do, Feliciano. Pay no attention to your brother; he's just miserable because I wouldn't pay for his dance classes."

"But you don't mind paying for Feliciano's singing lessons?" Lovino muttered as he overheard.

"Feliciano finishes all his chores. When you do the same I'll consider it."

Lovino stood up in indignation, "I do loads around the house! I make the breakfast; I do the sweeping and the dishes... sometimes."

Roma rolled his eyes, "Stop complaining, Lovino, you are hardly _Cinderella_."

"If the shoe fits," Lovino grouched in response.

Roma smiled despite himself, "Perhaps you should get a job back-chatting your grandpa, _eh_? Now please, Lovino, be quiet a moment, the meteor shower is about to start."

Pinpoints of light streaked across the night sky, each followed by a dark orange trail that coloured the air like a cloud of fiery smoke. Feliciano's eyes were squeezed tightly shut as he wished, "…and I'd like more singing lessons...and a new bicycle..."

"Feliciano, it's a magical wish, not a Christmas list." But Roma looked at him fondly all the same.

"...and when you send him to me, please make sure he has great, _big_ muscles!"

"Okay, Feliciano, I think that's quite enough. Give the star some peace and quiet."

"Okay, grandpa!" Feliciano finished wistfully before turning towards Lovino. "Lovino, if you're not wishing, then why are your eyes closed."

"Shut up."

* * *

"Aren't they beautiful?" Antonio stared up at the sky wistfully, as beams of light cut through the darkness.

"Yea, Zeus must be pissed," Gilbert replied smirking.

"You know, Gilbert, I don't think you're taking this very seriously." Antonio frowned. "You haven't even wished on one star yet."

Gilbert scoffed, taking back a swig of his beer before burping loudly, "Wishing on stars is for pussies."

"What about you Francis?"

"_Honhon_, _mon ami_, you know me. My only wish is to wake up next to a sleeping beauty… each and every morning." As if to prove his point, Francis wolf-whistled at a passing group of women, who all giggled appreciatively in response.

Antonio shook his head, "Don't either of you believe in _true_ love?"

"_Pshh_, the only things _I_ believe in are drinking beer, sausage fests and parading around in fancy leather shorts – if only to honour my heritage," Gilbert sniggered.

"Speaking of sausage fests," Francis threw back his own head in laughter, "I hear 'The Three Bears' is holding a special party for the meteor shower."

"Well I don't care where we go, so long as there's booze." Gilbert took another swig from his can, "Antonio?"

Antonio looked at them in horror, "We can't go yet. The stars have only just begun to fall; I haven't even had time to make my wish yet!"

Francis rolled his eyes in response, "Fine, fine, _mon dieu,_ we shall stay a little longer. Hurry up and make your wishes though. I don't know about stars, but I have seen some real angels heading towards the club."

"Translation – he's only interested in beauty if he can put his dick in it," Gilbert laughed. "So unless those stars have moist craters, he's probably unwilling to try them at present."

"Gilbert, you are always so vulgar." Francis shook his head in disgust, but Gilbert just shrugged.

"It comes with the life-style."

"Ah yes, your rock-"

"Punk," Gilbert corrected him.

"Okay, your 'Punk' band. Surely you do not think that is _real _music." Francis wrinkled his nose in disdain, "It is just so tasteless and... so English."

Gilbert rolled his eyes, "Whereas _mimes _are the high-point of civilised society."

"Mock my culture all you like, at least the French do not cook and dress the way they sing," Francis sighed, tapping his foot impatiently. "Antonio, can we go yet? You must have wished on half the stars in the galaxy by now."

Antonio finished his wish, before sighing in defeat. "Fine, but if my wish isn't granted I'm blaming you guys."

"That's fine, Antonio. You may seek bloody revenge on me. Now can we please go?"

"Hey, I think I finally figured out my wish," Gilbert said laughing as they walked away. "I wish there was someone who complained more than you two."

* * *

Arthur couldn't concentrate. He had been trying to work on this bloody play all night, but his treasured peace and quiet kept being rudely interrupted by the screams of drunken party-goers and the whistle and bang of many, _many _fireworks. It had only gotten worse after the city had switched its lights back on. Eventually he had shut his window, cursing the world for forcing him to remove himself from the beautiful,_ inspiring_ view of London and back to his own drab apartment.

"I wish to be the hero! I wish to be the hero! I wish to be the hero! I wish to be the hero!"

Arthur's eye twitched. Noise, there was continually _noise._ Something, no _someone_ was still interrupting his precious silence. Well, enough was quite enough; he wasn't having any more of it.

"Will you shut your bloody mouth? Some of us are trying to work." Arthur yelled crossly, re-opening his window.

"Dude relax, just shut your window," replied the voice, its' easy tone only serving to increase Arthur's rage.

"I tried that, but you're just too _bloomin'_ loud!"

"Oh." The voice became suddenly sheepish, "Sorry, man I didn't mean to interrupt your work. I just wanted to make sure the star could hear me."

"The star…?"

"Yea, it's really far away."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Well then, could you possibly wish upon a closer one for the time being? Or better yet, find one that can lip read."

"Nah, this is a special star I'm trying to wish on. It's the most important one."

Despite himself Arthur was rather amused, "And what pray-tell, were you wishing on this special star _for_? All I heard was something about being a hero, but you can't possibly mean a super-hero, can you?" Actually, from talking to this guy for two minutes, Arthur later decided that he really wouldn't have been_ that_ surprised.

"No!" The man replied indignantly. "I already tried that last year," he added glumly.

"And it didn't come true? My word."

Arthur's sarcastic tone was clearly lost on the speaker, because he continued earnestly. "Well my toe-nails grew a little faster, but that's not really what I was hoping for. That's why I'm wishing on the special star, I figure you must have to be _real _specific about these things."

"Clearly. So then, what type of hero are you hoping to be this year?"

The other man laughed, "Well not _a_ hero this time, more '_the_ hero.' I'm an actor; I want to get the lead role in a play."

For a second Arthur was unsure what to reply. Should he tell the boy he was a playwright? The least he could do was to give him some helpful advice.

"Good luck with that. With the amount of people trying to make it, you'd probably do better wishing for a free meal." Arthur frowned, that 'helpful advice' had come out a little meaner than he had meant it to.

To his great surprise though, the young man responded with enthusiasm, "Okay, star - I've changed my mind! I wish for a free meal!"

"I was kidding…"

"Don't worry about me man, I'm American and we _never_ give up on _our_ dreams!"

'American,' Thought Arthur in amusement, 'well that explained a lot.'

"I'm Alfred by the way," the American continued obliviously.

"Arthur."

"Well it's been good meeting you Arthur!" There was a silence and then a laugh, "You know I just held out my hand. I sorta forgot you were up in a window."

Arthur looked down at his own outstretched arm, and wondered whether to tell Alfred that he had just done the exact same thing. Instead he laughed quietly at himself.

There was a small silence that lingered for only a couple of moments before Alfred spoke again, "Well I'd better go in a second, my half-brother Mattie was supposed to be meeting me here. But he's got this fear of blood thingy…"

"Haemophobia?"

"Yea, that's the one. Anyway, he's half an hour late, so I better check he hasn't pricked his finger and passed out in a dark alley or something."

As Alfred turned to leave he stepped out into the streetlight, and for just a moment Arthur could see him clearly. His mouth fell open; this stranger was blond and _really_ attractive. As the light from both window and lamp fell across his upturned face, bright blue eyes gleamed suddenly from behind his glasses… and Arthur saw his even white teeth briefly, as he grinned up towards the window. Something about him made Arthur's pulse pound, but he had time for little more than a swift intake of breath before Alfred walked back into the darkness. It was irrational he knew, but Arthur's heart was beating rapidly and adrenaline seared through his veins. Without thinking, he called out, "Alfred, wait! I have a question for you."

"Yea?" Alfred called back from across the street.

"Which star is it you were wishing on?"

He heard a low laugh, "The biggest one," Alfred's now dark figure lifted its hand to point. "Second star to the right and straight on till morning."

Arthur looked up at the sky searchingly, before leaning over to yell, "Thank you!"

For a brief moment he considered sitting back down to his work, but the thought was quickly replaced with the memory of that brilliant smile.

"Oh sod it," Arthur said angrily to himself, before marching back to the open window.

'I must be out of my bloody mind,' he thought as he knelt down. Looking up into the dark sky for a moment, he finally spotted the star Alfred had spoken of. In barely a whisper, he began to wish…

"_Star light, star bright,_

_First star I see tonight;_

_I wish I may, I wish I might,_

_Have the wish I wish tonight…"_

* * *

**A/N: We have decided to write a story for Christmas before starting on our next long fic… and will begin posting from 29****th**** November – one chapter every two days.**

**Within the larger story, each chapter will be in the form of a short - loosely based on a fairy-tale, and focussing around one pairing.**

**We hope you will enjoy our festive stories and join us from next week :)**

**EvilMidget6 and LieutenantProbable ;)**


	2. On the First Day of Christmas

**The Twelve Gays of Christmas**

**On the First Day of Christmas…**

As the first pale light of the sun rose over the dark hills, colour slowly started to return to the land. The white, frost dipped grass which sprouted from along the banks of the river Thames, became a soft pink under the morning sky. It was such a lovely sight that Ludwig stopped walking to stand spellbound at the river's edge, watching the luminous yellow of the bridge-lights dance like fireflies across the surface.

This was the first time he heard _the_ _voice_. It was beautiful, Italian or possibly French, but definitely male - clear and crisp as the morning air. Ludwig did nothing for a couple of seconds, just listened, letting the sweet sound wash over him like a trickling stream. In the distance he could hear the crunch of the singer's footsteps on frozen leaves, and he turned his head to see who had such a wonderful voice.

The figure was dark, still in the shadows, but he could see that it was a young man who was slight and well dressed. Ludwig blushed as he wondered whether to speak to him. He wanted to compliment this singer and he thought of a couple of things to say in his head. Body tense, he turned back towards the figure taking a deep breath, and as he heard the footsteps pass him he stepped forward, and opened his mouth to speak.

"_Scheise_!" Ludwig skidded as the ice gave way beneath his foot and he tumbled down the bank. He felt a stabbing pain in his head, as it contacted sharply with something hard, felt blood fill his mouth as his body tensed and his teeth cut open his tongue…

…heard a scream and a splash, but then knew only darkness.

* * *

Ludwig awoke to the sterile lights of the hospital, and found himself bed-ridden, with his brother Gilbert shaking him manically.

"…Get…off…me…" He managed to mumble as Gilbert's shaking got harder with excitement.

"Thank _fuck_!" His brother let out a loud sigh of relief, before finally letting go. "You had me worried for a moment," he said, running an agitated hand through his hair. "Jesus, Ludwig what the fuck happened? How did you end up in the fucking water?"

As Gilbert stood back, Ludwig's eyes came into focus and he noticed that both Francis and Antonio - his brother's best friends, were also there.

Antonio smiled at him and Francis winked, rolling his eyes pointedly at Gilbert. "My dear, Gilbert, I believe it is fairly obvious… he fell."

"Yea, _that's_ obvious, but I wanna know _why_ he fell. Ludwig's a fucking cop; we don't know _who_ could be after him." Gilbert's eyes gleamed dangerously, as if this imaginary saboteur were already in the room.

Despite the pain in his neck, Ludwig still managed to shake his head, "_Nein_, I am fine, I just…slipped," he finished in embarrassment.

"You see, Gilbert, no death pact or Russian mafia," Antonio teased his friend before turning back towards Ludwig and whispering, "Gilbert's been coming up with conspiracy theories all day. The way he was talking, I started to wonder if you were the German James Bond and just hadn't told us or something."

Gilbert unfortunately didn't seem quite so satisfied with Ludwig's answer, "You _fell_? How did you fall?"

Ludwig felt his face turn red. He knew it was unusual for him to be so careless, but that voice had been so beautiful…

"There was a man singing," he admitted bashfully, "I went to compliment him and I slipped."

Gilbert nodded, "Well at least that makes sense, the guy who rescued you said he worked at the theatre, must be a singer." He thought for a moment and laughed, "Still, Ludi, I can't believe _you_ went to_ compliment_ him." He laughed and pinched Ludwig on the cheek, "What happened too my serious and celibate younger brother. Glad you finally got some confidence with this stuff." He turned towards Antonio and Francis, "Honestly. He can beat down a mob-boss, but he can't get a date."

Ludwig groaned, "I wasn't going to ask him out. I just wanted to tell him that I appreciated his singing."

"And with lines like that, who could say no?" Gilbert added jovially, "So, what does he look like?"

Ludwig blinked, "Didn't you see him?"

Gilbert shook his head, "No, apparently he left for work as soon as the paramedics said you'd be okay, it was them who called me from the hospital."

Ludwig sighed, "I fell before I saw his face. I only ever heard that voice."

Gilbert rolled his eyes, "Fucking hell, you got rescued by a voice?" He laughed, "Who the fuck is this guy, 'the little mermaid?'

Ludwig raised an eyebrow at him.

"What? It's a good film!" Gilbert defended, "Fish that can sing and shit, fucking _mermaids_ and this big-ass sea witch – did you ever meet Elizabeta? Well imagine her with tentacles."

"You know, I always found King Triton kind of hot. Bulging muscles, rugged facial hair and he had so much _authority,_" Francis sighed wistfully.

"I've never seen it, is he _really_ that hot?" Antonio asked eagerly.

"Don't be fooled by Francis, Antonio. He basically has the hots for the mermaid version of Santa Claus," Gilbert looked at Francis in disgust, but the Frenchman merely shrugged.

"What is so wrong about that? Deep booming voice, good with kids… also I've always been intrigued by the idea of his 'naughty list.'" Gilbert made mock gag noises, and Antonio fell about laughing.

Ludwig on the other hand, was frowning in thought.

"What's wrong, little bro? Has the thought of Francis having sex with Santa finally scarred you for life?" Gilbert winked at Francis who responded with a derisive snort.

Ludwig shook his head, "I only wish I could thank my rescuer."

"Well why can't you?" Antonio said cheerfully, "You already know he works at the theatre, and since you are so enamoured by his voice, I am sure you would recognise him if you went there."

Gilbert nodded, "The doctor said you'll be out of hospital by the end of the week, and Francis works there in wardrobe, remember? I'm sure he'll be able to get you back stage."

Francis gave a low bow, "To help a Beilshmidt get laid, I would storm the gates of hell itself."

Ludwig nodded in agreement, before blushing.

"What is it Ludwig?" Francis asked with a sly grin as he noticed the darkening colour on Ludwig's cheeks.

"It's just…" He went even redder, stumbling over his words, before finally mumbling, "What should I wear?"

* * *

A week later as promised, Francis took Ludwig to the theatre.

After asking around a little, and enquiring discretely about any talented singers currently working at the theatre, they were directed upstairs to a man named Felix. Upon hearing his name, Francis suppressed a smirk of laughter, but he nonetheless led Ludwig dutifully to the indicated dressing room.

Inside, they found a fancy looking blonde man reclining lazily on a large purple chair and talking nonsensically into a mobile phone, whilst a small auburn haired man fed him grapes at intervals. Francis nodded to the young man whom he knew quite well, he had heard that his godson Feliciano had taken a job working for Felix, and didn't envy him.

"Felix, you have a visitor." Francis tapped his foot impatiently as Felix made no move to acknowledge them, "Well, aren't you going to introduce yourself?"

"Fine, fine, _I_ am the great actor, Felix, and this is my personal assistant." He gestured dismissively towards the young grape-attendant, who was looking at Ludwig with his eyes alight. "Now, what is it you will be wanting? Cause I totally don't _do_ free autographs."

Francis sighed, Felix was such a pain. "_Non_, _idiot mal élevé_, we are not here for that. Ludwig heard someone singing the other day and wanted to meet him, but he slipped and fell into the water. Now he is trying to find out just _who_ it was that saved him, you see –"

"Me! It was totally me!" Felix seemed to spring into action and he stood up enthusiastically. "It was no big deal, I like, jumped in. My hair was totally wet and sexy."

Feliciano looked at him in confusion, but Felix continued before he could get a word in. "Yes, _I_ am the hero you have been looking for. After all, I am like, a celebrity. We pretty much have super powers."

Ludwig looked a little taken a back. "Well, uh, thank you."

"Like, no problem," Felix smiled lethargically.

Ludwig nodded, now clearly unsure what to say. Eventually he settled on, "Well if there is anything I can ever do to repay you…"

"_Pshh_, unless you can like, make my hair even more gorgeous, then I like, totally doubt it."

Francis sighed, poor Ludwig, to be saved by _Felix_ of all people, he could only imagine what the man was going through…

"Ludwig, if you do not mind, you must go home now. Felix here is due for a fitting." Francis winked at Ludwig, who looked at him thankfully, before turning to leave.

The moment Ludwig was gone, Feliciano spoke up, "Who was that handsome German man and why did you tell him that it was you who –" Felix pointedly interrupted him, but not before shooting him a sharp glare.

"Francis, could you like, go get me some water or something?" Felix flicked his finger in Francis's general direction.

Francis scowled, "I thought _Feliciano_ was your personal assistant. Why not get _him_ to do it?" He replied coolly, before turning towards the assistant in question, "By the way Feliciano, the man I brought along is called Ludwig. You know, if you think he's handsome, I could introduce you… I am very good friends with his older brother Gilbert."

"You would _really_ do that for me, Francis?" Feliciano beamed, "That would be so _wonderful_! You must tell him how much I like his muscles, they are _enormous_," He stretched his own arms out wide, as if to demonstrate this fact.

"_Francis…_" Felix whined, making both Francis and Feliciano wince at the high pitched wail, "_water_!"

Francis narrowed his eyes. Usually he'd tell Felix to shove his orders up his _derriere_, but something didn't seem right about this whole situation. For one thing, he hadn't started bragging about what a hero he was after Ludwig left, and for another he seemed suddenly desperate to get Feliciano alone.

Quickly he composed himself and smiled sweetly, "Very well, _mon_ _cher,_ _Felix_, I will fetch your water." Francis faked a sigh, before leaving the room and shutting the door very carefully, so that it was _just_ ajar. Leaning against the wall, and tilting his head close to the small crack he had left, he listened…

"Felix, why did you tell Ludwig that it was _you_ that saved him? I told you about it yesterday - that I saved the beautiful man with the large muscles, you remember? You said –"

"Look, Feli, you can't like totally tell anyone it was _you_. Ever since I've been getting you to pretend to be me and sing behind the curtain, I've gotten like a _gazillion_ times more famous. So if anyone found out it was all really you, well press that bad… It would totally ruin me!"

Feliciano smiled, "That's okay, Felix, I will keep your secret," he pressed his fingers to his lips and winked, "I only wish to talk to _him_!"

Felix shook his head, "Sorry, sweetie, but I like totally can't take any chances with this. No-one else here cares enough about a little coffee boy to pay attention to you, and your dear godfather Francis only does wardrobe. He never turns up for the actual _shows_, so _he_ doesn't even know _what_ _'_my singing' sounds like. But this Ludwig…" Felix trailed off with a shrug, popping another grape into his mouth.

"But Francis promised to introduce us, and he is so _very_ handsome…" Feliciano begged hopefully.

Felix gave a long-suffering sigh, "If you want to cross a bridge, Feli, you got to pay the toll. I already said, I'll like _totally_ introduce you to the right people. You just have to help me with this one _tiny_ thing first." He pressed his fingers together to emphasise the point. "You can still hang out with him; you just can't like… talk."

From behind the door Francis shook his head in irritation. Felix was making it sound as though by even allowing him to _look_ upon Ludwig, he was doing Feliciano a huge favour. He smirked slightly, imagining what Gilbert's reaction would be when he found out about this!

"But I would so like to tell him what great, big muscles he has!" Feliciano responded, his eyes wistful. "_Please_, Felix, it's just one person."

"I can't risk it, Feli. Like, how will I get famous if people know it's really _you_ singing? And like, you know if I let you tell one person, you might tell the whole _world_ and lose me my chance to be a celebrity!." He shook his head, his eyes becoming bleak, "I _can't_ go back to those dark days, I _won't_ be a nobody again."

"What did you do before?" Feliciano's eyes were wide with sympathy.

"I like, always got stuck as one of the pink ladies, even though I _totally_ have the body to pull off Sandy. I mean imagine _this_…" He gestured towards his body, "…in latex. Totally dreamy, right? But they're all, 'you can't sing,' and I'm like, '_hello_? Once they get a load of _this_, they won't even be like, listening to my _voice_." Felix flicked his hair in remembered annoyance.

Feliciano gasped, "Oh, Felix, I do _so_ want to help you! It's just… without my voice, how can I get Ludwig to like me?"

"You'll have your looks, your pretty face…and don't underestimate the importance of… _body language,_" Felix giggled girlishly as he shimmied deeper into the sofa.

Feliciano still looked uncertain.

Felix sighed, rolling his eyes. "Well go ahead, Feli, make your choice. I'm a very busy person and I haven't got all day, it's not much – just your voice."

"Okay, I'll do it!" Tentatively, Feliciano stretched out his hand, and Felix shook it looking amused. "But… what explanation shall I give him?"

Felix sighed and looked at Feliciano as if he were a child refusing to eat his greens, "Well pretend you've had your tonsils out or something. That like, totally hurts." Felix snapped his fingers looking very smug. "_Also_, you'd have a scar to show him, and that looks totally macho and sexy!"

"_Wow_, Felix! That's so clever."

Outside the door, Francis groaned quietly. How could Feli _possibly_ have a scar to show from this imaginary tonsillectomy?

"I know right?" To Feliciano's surprise, Felix sighed sadly, "Last year I auditioned for 'Paris Hilton's - My New BFF - Poland' but she said I was like, _way_ too brainy. I'm trying to dumb it down a bit. I don't want my super-smarts to like, _ruin_ my career."

Francis abandoned his eavesdropping. He had heard _more_ than enough, and decided to find Gilbert so they could decide how best to handle this.

* * *

"He did _what_!? Wait till I tell Ludwig?" Gilbert marched up and down in anger and Antonio gasped as Francis related his story.

"No, you mustn't! Feliciano works for _Felix_, so that could get him fired," Francis frowned. "And getting Ludwig to hate Felix won't automatically make him like Feli."

Antonio nodded in agreement before smiling, "So Feli _really_ fancies him, huh?"

Francis shrugged, "It would seem so."

Gilbert scratched his head, "And here I always thought Ludwig was a scary-looking bastard." He barked a horse laugh, "So how are we gonna get them together without that giant dick-head finding out?"

Francis laughed quietly, "Well first, we have to set…the_ mood."_

"So what? We lock them in a cupboard together until they love each other?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Francis tutted impatiently, "Antonio, use my cell to get hold of Feliciano, and Gilbert – call Ludwig. I have just the plan…"

_(10 minutes later…)_

"How long will we be in here for?" Ludwig called from behind the door, and Feliciano nodded mutely beside him.

"I'm _sure_ I left the key around here _somewhere_," Francis answered, watching in amusement as Antonio picked the lamp up and slammed it down a couple of times as though searching, before reclining back into his chair.

"Nope, not over here," he called with a smirk.

"You know," Gilbert whispered," I really don't see how this is any different from my idea; all _you've_ done is lock them in a _fancy-ass_ cupboard."

"_Wine cellar._ The plan is _much_ more likely to succeed if they have a few drinks to relax them." Francis rolled his eyes as if the difference were obvious.

"_Shhh_," hushed Antonio, "I think they're starting to talk." All three rose from their chairs and pressed ears to the door.

"So, _uh_, you never told me your name," Ludwig ventured awkwardly.

Peering through the key-hole, Francis saw Feliciano tap his throat and shrug apologetically. They had all been given some long-winded spiel about tonsillitis and losing his voice - via writing and gesticulations when Feliciano arrived. Luckily, they had been forewarned about this.

"That dick-head hasn't even told him Feliciano's _name_?" Gilbert raged behind the door, and the others frantically shushed him.

Ludwig coughed, "Well, maybe I can guess?" He thought for a moment, "Graham? Hans? Sebastian…?"

"Hey, Ludwig… _Feliciano!_?" Gilbert screamed loudly as though checking on them, but pointedly enunciated each vowel in Feliciano's name. "How're you guys doing? Do you need anything, _uh_, anything that we can fit under a door?"

"_Nein_, that is fine." Ludwig smiled, turning back to Feliciano who blushed at the eye contact. "Your name is Feliciano?" Feliciano nodded and smiled thankfully. "That's kind of _beautiful_…" Ludwig blushed the moment the words left his mouth, and Feliciano sat forward.

"Yes… you _want_ him, _look_ at him you _know_ you _do_," Francis whispered.

"Hurry up and kiss already," Antonio muttered taking a peek and clasping his hands together - barely able to contain his excitement. "_My-oh-my_, looks like Ludwig's too shy," he frowned. "Still, he seems to like him. Feli somehow manages to have something about him you know, even when he's not speaking. All those arm gestures and…" He winced looking through the keyhole again, "Pictionary."

"_Oh_, Ludwig is standing; perhaps he is finally going to kiss the boy!" Francis hissed, "'Hang on what is this?" All three of them jumped backward as the door flew open.

Ludwig looked down at them in confusion, "You can unlock it from the inside."

"_Ohh_," Antonio, Francis and Gilbert groaned in unison.

Back in the wine cellar, Feliciano turned his head away and sighed.

* * *

Lovino had been having a hard day.

He'd been given a 'no', from his call-back after auditioning to be a backing dancer in the latest theatre production… something about a having a 'bad attitude'. Fortunately he was distracted from his dark thoughts by the creak of the café door opening. Looking up, Lovino sighed; it was only his brother, Feliciano.

"Oh, Lovino, Ludwig is _so_ wonderful, he is very kind and he knows lots of things about war and police dogs," Feliciano smiled dopily.

Lovino scowled, it was typical - Feliciano had yet _another_ admirer, when _he_ hadn't been on a date in over a year. "Feli, don't even _talk_ to me about men. It's been so long for me, I'm thinking about asking for my virginity back."

"You mean you've _already_…?!"

Lovino's eyes grew wide, "Wait so you've _never_…?!"

Feliciano shook his head in wonder and Lovino smirked. "Hey, Feli, you know how _olive_ oil is made out of _olives_, and _vegetable_ oil is made out of _vegetables_…"

"Of course, Lovino! I _love_ cooking," his brother smiled obliviously.

"Guess what _virgin_-oil is made out of?"

Feli's mouth dropped open in shock and tears rose in his eyes.

Lovino chuckled, "Don't worry, I was only -"

But it was too late, Feliciano was already in hysterics. "_Oh_ _no_! What about _baby_ oil?! I put that on my _skin_, oh no, Lovino! I must warn Grandpa at once! It is lucky you are so smart, otherwise…"

"Feli!" Lovino grabbed him by the shoulders, stopping him in his tracks, "I was kidding!"

He wondered if his brother would be annoyed, but to his surprise Feliciano smiled, "Oh, Lovino, you are such a wonderful brother. Tricking me like that to take my mind off being silly about a muscley German man," he waggled his finger before getting lost in thought. "I think I will go cook some pasta in the kitchen; it will help me not to think about things."

Lovino shook his head in bemusement, as Feliciano made his way to the kitchen singing happily. Little did he know that from the other end of the café, he himself was being watched.

"What have we here then?" Gilbert laughed as he walked into the café, an amused Francis and embarrassed Ludwig in pursuit. "Jesus Christ, Antonio, you might as well get a job here, at least then you'd get paid to stalk him."

Francis shook his head, "Leave him alone Gilbert. If it is not wrong to stare at a beautiful piece of art in a museum, then why is it so wrong to admire human beauty?"

Gilbert tapped his chin in mock thought, "I think it was when we started calling it _stalking _and not 'happy harmless observation time'."

"It is not stalking if you love them," Francis replied with a shrug and Gilbert shook his head in disgust.

Antonio was still gazing at Lovino wistfully, "I just cannot imagine anyone more perfect and beautiful… His hair, his eyes, the way he speaks…"

Gilbert looked towards Lovino, who was presently engaged with a customer, "You fucking bastard! Talk to me like that again and I'll throw this fucking coffee right in your goddamn face!"

Francis raised an eyebrow, "Our dear Lovino certainly _does_ have a way with words. I think his _brother's_ cuter though, don't you, Ludwig?"

Ludwig looked at him in confusion, "Brother?"

"Dear Feliciano of course."

Ludwig went red, but he couldn't supress a small smile, "_Ja_. Feliciano is certainly special..."

Antonio looked at him knowingly and nodded, "Better than any dream guy, is one who is warm, caring and right before your eyes…" Antonio inclined his head towards the kitchen, where through the open door Feliciano was visible, cooking away and singing softly as he did so.

"I _told_ you 'The Little Mermaid' was an awesome film!" Gilbert slammed his fist on the table, as they all listened to Feliciano's melodious voice and he recognised the song, "'Part of Your World' is a fucking _gnarly_ song!"

Francis raised an eyebrow, "_Gnarly_? That's a new one."

Gilbert was about to respond when he noticed Ludwig, who was listening as if in a trance. "That _voice_. That's _the_ voice; Feliciano, Felix…!" He rose quickly from the table, grabbing his coat and swinging it round his large shoulders.

"Ludwig? Ludwig, where are you going?"

But it was too late, Ludwig had already gone.

* * *

"You will tell me the truth about Feliciano, or I will rip your voice box from your throat!"

Ludwig had found Felix easily at the theatre where he was lounging in his dressing room. He had marched straight up and punched him _hard_, before picking him up by the scruff of his neck and shaking him.

Despite the obvious pain he was in; to his credit, Felix reacted fairly well to the whole singing revelation…after he stopped complaining about what the bruise might do to his complexion, that is.

"Calm down _Hasslehoff_, it's like, totally not a big deal." Ludwig slammed him against the wall, breathing dangerously in his face, "_Eugh_, pickle breath. _Jesus_, I'll do what you want, just like, stop breathing on me."

"Resign. Give Feli the role. Go to the director now and _tell_ him you resign. Tell him the _whole_ truth."

Felix let out a groan, "_What_? But that'll like, totally ruin my career."

"Do it, or I will kill you," Ludwig's voice was ice cold. "I won't even be creative about it, I'll just put my hands around your neck and _break you_."

Felix rolled his eyes, "Fine, _fine,_ but you'll have to live with depriving the world of real genius."

"I'll manage," Ludwig snarled, dropping him to the ground. "Now _go_," he paused momentarily before blushing, "and tell Feliciano I want to see him. Say it's _urgent_."

Despite himself Felix smiled, fluttering his eyelashes, "Oh my _god_; that is like, the _most_ romantic thing I've ever heard." He paused briefly, "From a German anyway."

Twenty minutes later Feliciano arrived. He had run all the way up the stairs to Felix's dressing room when he heard Ludwig was waiting for him and was panting.

"_Ludwig_," Feliciano began breathlessly, but upon hearing his voice Ludwig didn't waste any time before running towards him, picking him up and pulling him into a desperate kiss.

"It was _you_, you were the one who saved me," Ludwig groaned as he pulled away.

"Felix told you!" Feliciano sounded delighted, "Oh! He told me you had something to talk to me about, but he didn't say what… although he _did_ say I was allowed to talk now," he smiled happily, "what a wonderful friend!"

Instead of correcting him, Ludwig kissed him again, this time even more forcefully - wrapping his arms around his back and threading his hands through his hair. He pulled Feliciano in so close to him, that by the end he could barely stand.

"Feliciano, please listen, I have been a fool. If there is anything I can do to make it up to you –" He stopped, as Feliciano placed a gentle finger upon his lips.

"Oh, Ludwig, you do not realise; all I _ever_ really wanted…was to be part of your world."

* * *

_"__What would I give__, __to live where you are? __What would I pay__, __to stay here beside you? __What would I do, to see you__ s__miling at me? __Where would we walk? __Where would we run…if we could stay - all day in the sun? __Just you and me,__and I could be__…__part of your world."_ **The Little Mermaid, Disney.**

* * *

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed this 'First day of Christmas…,' the 'Second' will be posted on Sunday, and we're hoping to update every two days after that - until all twelve are up :)**

**Many thanks to everyone who read/followed/faved the prologue, and especially to those who reviewed – makes us keep going!**

**Santa's little helpers were: Inuyashagirl7692, Katie-Kat1129, garryxmrchairfan, princessofd, Israelle ParadiseIsis Hypnosis, elizabeta H. Austria, Random toria, zoewinter1, TheEroticFox and TheWeaverofWorlds.**

**Hope to see you on Sunday :)**

**EvilMidget6 and LieutenantProbable ;)**


	3. On the Second Day of Christmas

**The Twelve Gays of Christmas**

**On the Second Day of Christmas…**

Gilbert leant wearily back against the car seat and looked out the window, though he was not really seeing anything as the darkened city sped past. He was exhausted after the sound check and rehearsal for tomorrow night's show but he grinned to himself, the band had sounded _awesome. _

Gilbert knew it was going to be a great gig, and with his friends in the audience too. He thought about Antonio and Francis, and laughed to himself as he remembered Francis' sarcasm the first time he had heard them practice.

"Yours is music to make love to, Gilbert, _hein_?" He'd commented acidly after ten minutes, before muttering something about the terrible English influence on musical culture and dragging Antonio off with him to a bar.

Gilbert had met them there later and had to listen to endless remarks about ear abuse, but it had still been a good night he thought fondly, recalling the punch up they got into later when Francis shared his views on English bad taste too loudly.

Despite his lack of love for the music, Francis would _never_ miss his gig Gilbert knew, and it meant a lot – though he'd _never_ say so. It was one of the few dependable things in his life, the friendship the three of them shared. Tried, tested and genuine as so few other things were, it didn't matter if his music wasn't really their thing – they'd be there for him anyway.

Gilbert wondered if he'd ever find that kind of relationship outside of his friends and sighed, sure he usually found plenty of takers for his 'five meters of awesome', and had plenty of fun, but nobody had yet been more than that. Sometimes lately - he had found himself wishing he could meet someone different, someone else who wasn't full of bullshit, someone _real_…

As the car drew up outside the hotel, Gilbert shook off his momentary sadness and thought about how great the next night would be. For now he just wanted to get to the hotel and relax, maybe have a few drinks before hitting the hay.

Nodding his thanks to the driver, Gilbert passed by the doorman who tipped his hat, and on into the warmth of the foyer. This place was _great_, marble floors, the décor inviting in cream and deep red, and a large Christmas tree glittering brightly in one corner. He couldn't _wait_ to get to his room and relax and Gilbert was glad that the accommodations had all been organised by the venue owners, his stuff had come here directly – so all he had to do was get his room key.

As he approached reception, Gilbert became aware of a disturbance at one end of the counter and moved further along as he waited for assistance. Hopefully he wouldn't be kept waiting long, but there seemed to be some major problem as both the receptionist _and_ the concierge were busy with what appeared to be a _very_ irate customer.

"This is simply unacceptable!" The speaker was a slim, elegant gentleman with dark hair which looked expensively cut and styled, Gilbert's eyes were drawn to one errant strand which curled wildly above his pale face and he realised how _pretty_ this guy was. His gaze travelled the full length of the stranger and he noted that he wore a long, stylish navy coat and glasses and was currently tapping the reservations book on the counter angrily with one long, slender finger.

"_My_ reservation has been confirmed for several months as you can plainly see from your own records! This is _simply_ appalling, and I insist that you sort it out at once."

The refined voice gained in volume and Gilbert winced; wow, this guy might be attractive but he sure was uptight. He felt sorry for the staff - who were looking harassed, but there had obviously been some major fuck-up and he wondered how much longer this was going to take.

"How can you _possibly_ have double-booked such an expensive suite? You know who I am! _Special_ customers, like myself - should surely be treated with the _utmost_ care and attention…" The concierge said something apologetic in an obvious attempt to placate him, but it didn't seem to have worked…

"_Share?_!" The guy said in a horrified voice, "Certainly not!"

Gilbert began to be amused despite his impatience. This 'little princess' was evidently pampered and spoilt, he'd reacted to that suggestion as though he'd been asked to sleep in the street, what a douche, he was so whiney. Privately, Gilbert was forced to admit to himself that the snotty bastard _was_ pretty cute though, as he caught another glimpse of his pale face. Were those eyes _really_ pale purple?

"Well you'll simply have to tell your other guest that there has been some mistake, and he must change rooms. _I_ am performing tomorrow evening and I am extremely tired, I am simply not interested in your apologies and excuses."

Gilbert had had enough of waiting by this time, he was bored of listening to the complaints and decided to interrupt.

"Hey, I can see you guys have your hands full with _her_ _highness_ here," the guy shot him an angry look… they _were_ purple, "but it's totally un-awesome to keep me waiting this long. Can I just get my room keys and get out of here? I'm pretty beat."

The receptionist scurried to assist him, evidently glad of an excuse to escape the harangue. "Certainly, sir, I do apologise for the delay but I'm afraid I was unable to assist Mr Edelstein to his satisfaction," she gestured to the still fuming customer in resignation. "Do you have a reservation? I'm afraid we're fully booked otherwise…"

"Yea, I have a reservation – for a suite, my stuff's already been bought over this afternoon, Gilbert Beilschmidt…"

He trailed off confused as these words seemed to electrify all three of the others at the desk.

"_You're_ Gilbert Beilschmidt?" The prissy guy uttered incredulously, looking at him as though he was some stinking hobo who'd dared to approach him for change.

"Yea, what's it to _you_?" Gilbert asked belligerently, not appreciating the tone; and then the truth dawned on him as the staff started to apologise to _him_ too…"You have _got_ to be fucking kidding…"

* * *

Twenty fruitless minutes later, the two men looked irritably at one another in the lounge of their now shared suite.

"I still don't get what your fucking problem is, _princess_, sure it's a pain – but it's only for two nights and you're acting like it's the end of the world or something." Gilbert said in exasperation.

"Don't call me that," his reluctant room-mate snapped, "Since we're going to be _forced_ to be in such close proximity for the next few days, I _suppose_ you may call me Roderich. I'm afraid I'm not accustomed to sharing, and I _don't_ like it, especially with someone like _you_."

"What the hell do you mean by that?"

"Look," Roderich assumed an overly patient tone, "I'm sure you're all very well in your place but…"

"In my fucking place?" Gilbert couldn't _believe_ this guy. "You realise I paid for this suite right, princess?"

"I asked you to _stop_ calling me that! Yes of course, I understand you have _money_, but you _must_ see that doesn't make us the same? _I'm_ a musician."

"So am I," Gilbert said flatly, her highness was asking for a smack in that pretty mouth.

"_You_?"

"Yea."

"What do _you_ play? I've never heard of you."

"I've never heard of _you_ either… thank fuck," Gilbert retorted. "I play guitar and sing, I'm the front-man of 'True Love's Fist," he added smugly, _that_ should put him straight.

"A _pop_ _star_? Oh _no_, this is even worse than I thought," Roderich looked at him pityingly. "How am I going to _stand_ this?"

"That's _rock_-star… and I'm sure you'll cope," Gilbert snarled nastily.

"I need space, calm, quiet time for reflection. You wouldn't understand my pain."

Gilbert rolled his eyes at the dramatic statement, "Life is pain, your highness, and anyone who says differently is selling something."

"Look, I play _real_ music, _classical_ music and I'm performing at the concert hall tomorrow evening on their _Swarovski_ _Steinway_."

That was obviously supposed to impress him and he actually _had_ heard of it, but Gilbert shrugged as though it was no big deal.

"It's _very_ famous concert grand piano," Roderich tutted.

"Nah, not interested in seeing you on a grand piano; how about an _upright_ _organ_?" He retorted crudely, and as expected Roderich winced.

"How _very_ crass," he said turning up his nose, and Gilbert eyed him fiercely, if he wasn't so obviously weak… and _fucking_ _hot_, his mind traitorously noted…

"I think it might be best if we just kept to ourselves as much as possible," Roderich decided, "we _clearly_ have nothing in common."

"Suits me."

Gilbert went straight to the fridge; he needed a stiff drink if he was going to have to put up with much more of this _fucking_ _princess,_ and he grabbed the first bottle which came to hand. Whisky? Well it would do – he got a glass and ice from the freezer, noticing in passing that someone had left a bag of frozen peas in there; before moving back into the lounge. Well, the peas might come in handy; he was definitely going to get a headache if he heard much more of this snobby bullshit.

"Not much of a selection; _and_ someone forgot to clear out the freezer too," Gilbert heard Roderich sniff disapprovingly, as he too went to fetch a drink, and he ground his teeth.

As they studiously ignored each other for the next ten minutes, it seemed to Gilbert that all he could hear was a steady back-drop of muttered complaints…

"I would have _thought_ there would be more towels," "_eugh_, hotel slippers, and nothing even monogrammed," "I wouldn't really call _that_ king-size, I hope it's not lumpy or I won't sleep a wink."

He was un-fucking-believable! Gilbert fumed. He realised that he needed to cool down and opening the balcony doors, stepped out into the night air to clear his head.

Sourly, he leant on the balcony and looked up at the sky. It was cold out and incredibly clear, the stars twinkling like a million diamonds against their velvet back-drop, and putting the city lights to shame. One in particular, caught his eye as it seemed to sparkle extra brightly, and Gilbert snorted as he remembered those _stupid_ wishes.

Breath fogging the air as he spoke, Gilbert slammed his hand against the rail in frustration, "Hey, fucker, that complaining thing was a joke alright? I take it back."

Unsurprisingly, there was no response – but the star pulsed slightly, almost as though it was winking at him.

"You have a twisted sense of humour, you sick bastard," he muttered.

Gilbert looked out across London for several more minutes, shaking his head occasionally as he thought about his 'room-mate'. Unwillingly he remembered those violet eyes and the elegant face, hells the guy was _gorgeous,_ but he was such a whiny prima-donna. Sighing in regret, Gilbert went back indoors, he _needed_ to sleep.

Or at least _try_ to - Roderich was now in the bathroom preparing a bath, but Gilbert could _still_ hear him! Something furious about hair, and 2-in-1? Geez… he really _might_ be a princess.

That thought sparked a nagging memory… some story about a test for a princess? What the fuck was it? The pack of peas flashed into his mind and Gilbert grinned to himself, yea – that was it! Quickly, he raced to the fridge and took out a single pea before sneaking into Roderich's bedroom and pacing it under the centre of the mattress, then he went to bed.

As he lay there for a while, thinking about the pianist next-door and trying to forget how good he looked and smelled, Gilbert snorted at the whole pea idea. It didn't seem so funny now, more pathetic actually – it wasn't like he would _really_ notice after all.

Feeling angry that somehow, despite the fact that he was such an obnoxious little shit, he _still_ fancied the damn pianist, Gilbert tried to sleep.

* * *

In the room next door, Roderich was feeling uncomfortable too.

He just _couldn't_ relax. What on earth was wrong with him? He didn't know, but every time he thought about that down-market guitarist, he felt uncomfortably warm. _Ow!_ This bed was appalling, physically he wasn't doing at all well and also… he felt a little guilty.

There'd been a brief flash of hurt in Gilbert's face when he'd dismissed his music, and Roderich's conscience pricked him, he knew what it was like to be passionate about performing after all. That look in his eyes had passed so quickly, that he might have missed it _if_ he hadn't been so surprisingly focussed on the arrogant lout, but there was _something_ about him… When they'd been thrown together this evening – Roderich knew he'd felt ridiculously flustered around him too, however well he'd managed to hide it.

Roderich shifted position again, trying to get comfortable and resolutely forced his mind to the upcoming concert and the first piece he was to play, 'The girl with the flaxen hair'. Hmm, flaxen hair, he sighed a little dreamily, Gilbert's hair was pale too... Damn! He was thinking about him _again_. Roderich turned over with a huff; he needed to _stop_ thinking about _him_. He was brash and uncouth… and that was _all_ there was to it.

Only it wasn't…

Tossing and turning, what the _devil_ was wrong with this mattress? It was so damned lumpy – had the springs gone? Roderich spent several hours wrestling with the discomfort of both his mind and body, before eventually falling into exhausted slumber… and even then, with his defences down - he dreamt of strong arms and a mocking smile.

* * *

Next morning both men were feeling gritty eyed and irritable.

There wasn't much discussion at first, but a little later, Gilbert came out of the bathroom feeling more himself after a rejuvenating shower, just in time to hear Roderich on the telephone.

He was acidly commenting on the appalling discomfort of his bed and Gilbert was stunned – could it _possibly_ been the pea? He could hardly credit it, but it seemed one hell of a coincidence otherwise.

Listening to the bitter recriminations in the background, Gilbert found himself suddenly feeling an awful lot better about the morning, and catching Roderich's eye as he positively _slammed_ down the phone, he threw him a jaunty wink before the musician turned a haughty shoulder.

"What's up? You didn't sleep well?"

"No I did not!" The pianist complained bitterly, "I have scarcely closed my eyes all night. Heaven only _knows_ what's wrong with that bed, but it felt as though I was lying on something hard; the mattress was _ridiculously_ lumpy and I'm going to formally complain to the management about everything. I feel black and blue all over and I have an important performance tonight, it's _utterly_ unacceptable!"

Gilbert felt a little uncomfortable; surely _he_ couldn't have caused all that? _Nah_. Shrugging it off he replied, "Wow, that's weird, now _I_ slept like an angel."

"I highly doubt _that_," Roderich retorted snippily, "an _angel_? You hardly resemble one of _those."_

"I'd make a fucking _awesome_ angel," Gilbert said indignantly.

"I hardly think angels _swear_ all the time," Roderich pointed out primly. "Nor do they wear clothes like _those_."

"What's wrong with my clothes?"

"Well, those leather pants are _far_ too tight for a start; and how can you _think_ it's acceptable to sit here with that wet hair and your shirt all undone…. You'll catch your death of cold."

"You checking me out, _Rodders_?" Gilbert stretched to better display said leather and skin, and watched in satisfaction as a slow flush mounted those elegant cheekbones. He then noticed a small beauty mark on the other man's face; _mmm_… it was just by that smart-assed, tight-lipped, goddamned _kissable_ mouth.

"_Hardly_, it's just impossible to _miss_ you, lounging about here half-dressed, flashing your tattoo and that _awfully_ tacky nipple-ring and… _what _did you call me?!"

Actually, Roderich was having a hard time keeping his eyes _off_ that open shirt, as the sidelong glances he'd caught had made Gilbert fully aware, he just wasn't sure _why_… yet.

"_Rodders_, but I'm not sure I like it actually, _princess_ suits you so _much_ better." Roderich clenched his fists, and opened his mouth looking furious, but Gilbert hadn't finished. "I gotta tell you though, you seem to have paid an _awful_ lot of attention to my body," Gilbert raised a mocking brow, "Noticed _all_ the details didn't you, need to see more? I can take this shirt right off, if you like… _princess_."

Roderich gasped and flounced towards his room (just like the princess Gilbert called him), "I won't _listen_ to any more of this, and I can't _believe_ I have to suffer another night with _you_. Angel?! My god, you're the devil."

"Feeling _tempted_?"

"_Oh_, I give up."

"You want to give it up to me? Fine, I accept."

The bedroom door slammed shut and Gilbert grinned victoriously.

On the other side of the door, Roderich stood absolutely still for a long moment as he tried to ignore his pounding heart… _and_ the memory of those piercings… and that _hot_ tattoo he'd glimpsed snaking out of sight along one hip. He absolutely _didn't_ itch to see more.

* * *

That evening at the concert hall, the two men prepared for their very different performances – one on the top floor and one several floors below.

Both had tried to put thoughts of the other aside, each of them thinking that _he_ was the only one feeling this unaccountable and unlikely attraction. Neither of them had had much success.

Preparing to go onstage, Gilbert had come up with a plan which finally let him shelve his frustrating obsession with the _fucking_ pianist. Roderich wasn't due to perform upstairs until later, he was last on the bill at his _snobby_ concert, he knew this because - swearing in disgust at himself – he'd checked. Tonight, _after_ the gig, he _could_ go up there – just to take a look and see what the guy was like as a musician, find out why he gave himself such airs and graces.

Pleased at coming to a decision, Gilbert gave himself a last glance in the mirror before leaving his dressing room. Yea, he was looking _awesome;_ black leather pants and waistcoat – with nothing underneath but the heavy iron cross about his neck, hair spiking madly around his face, and chains wrapping his wrists… he _rocked_.

From the loud screams and shouts as the band went onstage – it seemed the crowd thought so too.

Upstairs in _his_ dressing room, Roderich had begun getting ready early (to distract himself) and was now expensively dressed in an immaculate Armani tuxedo. He glanced at the clock irritably, damn, as the star attraction he would be performing last, and there was almost an hour to go yet before he would even be called. His mind flew traitorously downstairs, he had lots of time… he _could_ go down there – just to see…

Ten minutes later, he watched stunned from backstage as Gilbert (now minus the waistcoat) strutted arrogantly across the stage, his body gleaming with perspiration in the spotlights. The crowd was going mad, but Roderich couldn't tear his eyes away from the charismatic front-man to really notice them.

After watching for some time (though he occasionally blocked his ears), Roderich _fled_ back upstairs to his own world to think, his mind awhirl with thoughts of Gilbert onstage. He was finally forced to admit it, they might be worlds apart, but he _wanted_ him.

About an hour later, Gilbert unknowingly mirrored Roderich's actions of earlier that evening, as he too took his place on the side-lines to observe a very different performer.

_Unlike_ Roderich, Gilbert found himself deeply moved by this music. He wouldn't want to _play_ it but… it _was_ beautiful; haunting and plaintive, the chords produced by those slender fingers fell about Gilbert as he watched, wrapping him in pure music… and as for Roderich himself… Lost in this world of his creation, utterly immersed in the sounds he produced, the pianist's face was alight with ecstasy and Gilbert's heart gave a painful squeeze. This was never going to be, him and this _princess_ - they were just too different, there was no way it would happen.

Gilbert decided to get a drink around the corner before heading back to the hotel, and he left the concert hall in search of a bar. Outside, he found that sometime during the evening it had started to rain, a steady downpour accompanied by ominous rumbles of thunder, "Figures," Gilbert grumbled as he ducked into the warmth of a welcoming doorway.

* * *

Walking slowly into their shared suite a little later, Gilbert looked around for his room-mate, where was he? He'd thought that Roderich would have been back here by now; had he decided not to stay here tonight? Gilbert's heart sank, had he _left_? Then he spotted him, out on the balcony – in this storm?

Gilbert grabbed a big towel and went quickly out, he'd be _soaked_.

"Hey, Roderich, what are you _doing_ out here?" He asked as he went towards him, ignoring the rain.

The other man also seemed oblivious, "I – I wanted to tell you. I _saw_ you on stage tonight, before my show. I wanted to _know_ – but since then, I've felt bad about all the things I said… you - you looked _amazing_."

"I watched you too," Gilbert admitted, "_after_ my gig, and it was beautiful," he muttered. "You were so _into_ it and I can see why you love it. You're still an uptight bastard – but I get you a bit more now."

"I feel exactly the same way," Roderich mumbled, "and well… I'm _suppose_ I'm sorry," he added sharply, still not looking at him.

Gilbert smiled, fuck he was a pain, but somehow - an adorable pain.

"Thanks, but you need to get dry," he draped the towel about the sodden shoulders and as Roderich looked up at him, he swooped to finally kiss that tempting mouth.

Long, slow, delicious, they stayed like that for some time in the pouring rain before Gilbert raised his head.

Roderich looked him in the eyes and smiled slightly as he spoke, "Now we both need to get out of these clothes, and I _really_ need to get to bed, but that damned lumpy mattress…" He trailed off.

"You could share mine? But no complaining," Gilbert teased softly, mentally thanking the pea.

"I've been told that I'm dreadfully hard work I'm afraid," Roderich responded with the ghost of a laugh.

"That's alright, I _like_ it hard…" Roderich groaned at that, and Gilbert laughed. "Besides, that's what got me interested in you in the first place, you know? You're a _real _princess."

Moving back inside they helped each other undress, and later… they _both_ slept like angels.

* * *

"_There was once a prince, a lonely prince. He travelled around the world to find someone special, a proper princess to share his life. But this he knew: it must be a real princess. In his travels, he found many princesses, all claiming to be real. Each had the proper pedigree and credentials, but there always seemed to be something not quite right about each one.__At last, the prince returned home in despair; he wanted a princess so badly."_** The Princess and the Pea.**

* * *

**A/N: The Girl with the Flaxen Hair – Debussy, a set piece for solo piano.**

**Over the years, Steinway has produced a small number of special or limited editions of the D-274 concert grand piano. Custom-built D-274s have also been made; for example the "fully crystallized" D-274s with over a million individually positioned Swarovski crystals (Austrian luxury cut glass) covering each piano.**

**Thanks to everyone reading/following/fave-ing (?!) lol, and especially to you fabulous reviewers… just awesome guys :)**

**The following have made Francis' **_**naughty**_** list: Katie-Kat1129, garryxmrchairfan, TheElvenOne, Catcateightyeight, Israelle ParadiseIsis Hypnosis, Rey129, princessofd, Decimus Yna, Janders, Inuyashagirl7692 and DarkMoon0327.**

**Next update on Tuesday.**

**EvilMidget6 and LieutenantProbable ;)**


	4. On the Third Day of Christmas

**The Twelve Gays of Christmas – A Love Story**

**On the Third Day of Christmas…**

"Lovino!" An angry shout from the hallway caused the young Italian to start violently, and he spilled the coffee which he had been wistfully nursing while he waited for the others.

"Dammit!" Lovino hastily set aside the cup and pulled his now dripping shirt away from his body, that spared his trousers but he frowned at the spreading stain. It was fortunate he had been holding the drink for quite some time or he would have been scalded; as it was - the shirt was probably ruined.

"What are you doing? You should be ready to leave; you _know_ this is a big night for your brother…" His grandfather's irate voice had drawn closer as he spoke, but as he entered the room and took in the state of his grandson's clothes; his previous frown became a heavy scowl. "How did you manage to do that? This is so _typical_, Lovino, first you aren't ready on time and now you're a mess, just look at you!"

"I can change it, you made me jump when you…" Lovino tried to explain.

"You _can't_ change it when you don't _have_ another dress shirt," the older man fumed. "Why weren't you more careful, not that I suppose you're bothered, you've been sulking ever since Feliciano got offered this wonderful opportunity. It's time you stopped this nonsense, Lovino, grew up and found a real job."

Lovino turned away so he wouldn't reveal how much those words stung. He _was_ happy for his brother, he knew how much it meant to him but it was hard to swallow their grandfather's sudden enthusiasm too.

For so many years now they had _both_ been told how they should give up on trying to make it in theatre, "Dreams are all very well, boys, but that's all they are. Singing and dancing are fine in their place, but they are _hobbies_; you need to find _proper_ work – prepare yourselves for the future. You can't raise a family without a steady income." The litany had varied only slightly as time passed and they left school far behind them, but until very recently it had been said equally often to each of them. Now…Feli had finally got _his_ lucky break and was on the road to singing success, tonight's concert was only the first of many engagements over the next few months. _Now_, only Lovino was the one 'with his head in the clouds.'

"I already _have_ a job," he said the words flatly, "and of course I'm pleased for Feli."

"Waiting tables part-time in my café? I mean something with prospects, Lovino."

"I want to _dance_," Lovino ground out through gritted teeth, "you aren't telling Feli to forget about his dreams _now_, are you? Why can't you believe that my chance will come?"

"I don't have time to discuss this right now, Lovino, Feliciano needs to be at the hall… and _you_ can't go like that, so you're just going to have to stay here, what a nightmare - he'll be so disappointed." Flinging up his hands in exasperation, Roma headed for the door, "We'll be back about twelve thirty, Lovi, you can stay here and think about it but you've had plenty of chances and they haven't led to anything more. Listen, we'll talk some more about _your_ future tomorrow."

Lovino could hear the sounds of their hurried departure as he stripped off the sodden shirt and mechanically moved into the bathroom to rinse out what he could of the coffee. The worst of it was that his grandpa was right. Oh he had managed a few spots in the chorus line, but they'd been few and far between so far.

Lovino was aware, unacknowledged but deep down, that he himself was part of the problem.

He _was_ a good dancer, he knew it, and those roles he had landed might have led to others if the rest of the cast and team had liked him, but that was the problem, people just _didn't_ like him. Not a team player, too awkward, too temperamental, too _angry_, he'd heard the muttered comments ever since he could remember, and these days he usually tried to avoid much too contact – most people were such assholes anyway… so like he cared…

Lovino paused in his rinsing, avoiding his own eyes in the bathroom mirror as he angrily choked down a sob; he _didn't_ care!

Finished with the shirt, Lovino wandered listlessly through the empty apartment feeling claustrophobic as he tried to avoid confronting his own dark thoughts. If he went out… his grandfather would be pissed – but he couldn't face just staying in here, where could he go?

As if in answer to his dilemma, the doorbell buzzed and Lovino went to the door wondering who it could be? No-one was expected…

"Francis?" Why would his _godfather_ come without calling first?

"_Bon soir, _Lovino, your grandpa called me," Francis arched an eyebrow that said it all - oh, so that was why. Moving back to let him in, Lovino scowled.

"So what did he send _you_ round for?" He snapped, "To tell me I should give it up and get a _real_ job?"

"_Non, ma petite colère_, it was to keep you company; but there is a problem with that," Francis replied in his usual laid back manner, refusing to respond to Lovino's evident antagonism.

Lovino was slightly taken aback, "He asked you to check I was okay? Why?"

"Your grandfather loves you, Lovino, whatever your differences," Francis said gently, "he thought it might be hard for you, this sudden success Feli has found..."

"I'm _glad_ Feli's made it," Lovino interrupted.

"_Oui, mon cher_, but that doesn't mean it can't be difficult too, to be on the side-lines – wishing…" Francis trailed off tactfully and shrugged, "so he asked me to come over."

"Uh, thanks then I guess," Lovino looked away and flushed slightly as he realised how ungracious he had sounded. "But you said there was a problem? You don't need to worry if you have somewhere else you need to be. I'm fine, really."

Francis looked at him narrowly, "_Non_ _mon_ _petit_, I don't think that you are," he muttered obscurely, "but I _do_ have somewhere else I need to go. I am hoping that you will come with me."

"Come with you where?" For the first time Lovino noticed that Francis was definitely dressed for something. He was always so finicky about his appearance that it hadn't really registered until now, but tonight he looked a bit different. Leather pants and an open waistcoat over a loose white shirt – not his usual attire and his hair was kind of messy too, Lovino was intrigued.

"A friend of mine is in a band, and he is performing locally tonight," Francis shrugged, "Not really my thing, but I said I would be there."

"What kind of music?" Lovino asked, "You mean a concert?" Then why are you wearing those clothes?

"No, Lovino, I mean a gig – a rock band, they're quite raw, maybe a bit punk… I doubt your grandfather would approve, but you _are_ twenty-three, how about it?"

Lovino hesitated, "I've never been to a gig though," he admitted, "I bet it's really dull and boring." Francis raised an eyebrow. "_Okay_, it would be wonderful to come with you, alright…but…grandpa will be home by twelve-thirty, and I don't _have_ clothes like _those_," he gestured to Francis' outfit. "I'd look weird."

"_Never? Mon dieu,_ Lovino, haven't you ever been with friends?" He realised that the question had made Lovino wince, and mentally shook his head. "Then it is about time you did, _hein? _Don't worry about the time, we can be back before your grandpa, and as for the clothes," he eyed Lovino consideringly and smirked, his eyes beginning to dance. "We can stop by the theatre en-route and fix that, I have _just_ the thing in wardrobe, you'll see."

Forty minutes later, Lovino looked doubtfully at himself in the dressing-room mirror; in fact he could barely believe that it _was_ himself that he looked at. Perhaps he looked hot? But _his_ black leather pants seemed _much _more snug than Francis' and rode low on his hips, the black shirt above riding up to show flashes of skin as he moved. Francis had also insisted on the leather cuffs beneath his rolled back sleeves, he _did_ like the boots though.

The make-over hadn't stopped there; Lovino raised his eyes to look again at his hair. Spikey and wild, some of it hung messily in front of his eyes and he scowled, "I look like a smug bastard."

"_Non_, _vous_ _êtes_ _délicieux_," Francis said decidedly, thinking wickedly to himself that if Antonio was so smitten by the usual Lovino, he would have a heart attack when he saw him like _this_. "Not like your _usual_ self it is true, but it is good to have a change sometimes, Lovi. If you feel self-conscious, try pretending you are someone else for tonight."

Be someone else? Tonight… _that_ idea was appealing to Lovino, and all at once he decided to do it. See what it would be like to live inside a different skin. He met Francis' gaze in the mirror, the slight smile enough of an answer for the Frenchman, who nodded.

"_Yes_, Lovino, you _shall_ go to the ball," he smirked.

Together they left.

* * *

Lovino made his way to the bar between songs, his moody glower causing many people to move out of his way. _Cheh,_ the music was pretty good he supposed, though this one was a bit weird… he listened to the almost shouted lyrics, what the…?

"_Prince Charming…don't you ever… showing me you're handsome… ridicule is nothing to be scared of…"_

Yea right, but he wasn't sure where his godfather was and he didn't _know_ anyone else here.

Francis had vanished a short while before, muttering something about another friend who should be here and saying he would introduce them, but fuck knew where he was now and Lovino was feeling uncomfortable on his own. The drinks he'd had already had seemed to help with that, so he'd decided to get another while he waited.

Swaying slightly as a result of those drinks, Lovino abruptly collided with someone who had turned to move towards the bar - just as he passed.

"Dammit," Lovino cursed, "watch out, bastard."

"Well, excuse me too, wanker."

Lovino cast a startled glance upwards at the slightly slurred response and encountered an amused look from a pair of intensely green eyes set beneath heavy dark eyebrows. Eyes travelling the length of his body, Lovino realised that this man too wore boots, but above them… his dark jeans were ripped in various places, and pale skin glowed between the straps buckled around the legs of his pants. Lovino's eyes widened slightly, he _couldn't_ have _anything_ on underneath!

Looking back at his face, Lovino barely noted a union jack T-shirt that was ripped like the jeans and a studded collar with matching cuffs. The guy was _fucking_ hot, but he looked pretty intimidating too, no, definitely not someone he wanted to piss off.

"S-sorry, I wasn't looking."

"Forget about it," a shrug.

"You too, bastard," shit, beneath the messy blond hair, those eyebrows had shot right up and now he was glaring, "dammit, it's a - a habit, okay, I'm _not_ trying to insult you."

The blond snorted, "Christ, you must make lots of friends that way." Lovino winced and noting it, the guy gave a sudden half-smile, "Want a drink?"

Lovino looked dubiously at him again before remembering vaguely that he was being someone else tonight, why the hell not? "Sure."

He followed the retreating ass to the bar, noting a few more interesting rips in the back of those jeans as he did so, and leant against it as they ordered.

"What are you drinking?" The British guy asked as he swung a backpack to the floor beside their feet. Those intensely green eyes met his own again, before sliding down his own body – checking him out?

Lovino wondered if this man would think he looked good and his breathing quickened as he saw a slow smile. His fake feathers were working then; he smiled back, "Peroni."

"Italian? Figures, I'll join you."

Several bottles later, Lovino had almost forgotten how unusual it was for him to get along with someone so easily. In fact it was funny; this guy might even be as prickly as him, snapping a few times when others tried to join them. Feeling an unaccustomed euphoria, he'd completely forgotten about finding Francis, or keeping an eye on the time…

"Hey, _biondo_, want to dance?"

"Sure."

On the floor, Lovino lost himself in the music, his practiced body moving easily with the beat.

"You're an amazing dancer," his companion leant forward to make himself heard over the blast of sound from the nearby speakers… and someone collided with Lovino from behind.

He stumbled forward and strong arms caught him close, "_fuck_!" Lovino raised his face angrily to complain about being shoved by some ass-hole, but stopped as he looked into a heated green gaze, those tempting lips were only inches from his own… and then they weren't.

_Così_ _caldo_, the lips against his own were soft and sweet and the kiss burned through him. Lovino gasped into the mouth against his own, causing the arms about him to tighten further. Was he ready for this? Lovino wasn't sure; he didn't even know this guy's name for fuck's sake, but… tonight this wasn't really him anyway right? …and it felt so _good_.

"Fucking fags," another shove jostled them to the side and both men stumbled, but their somewhat intoxicated states affected them very differently. While Lovino took a second to work out what had happened, his friend was already swinging around with his fists clenched angrily.

"What the hell are you twats playing at?" His blond companion yelled. The mean-looking idiot who had shoved them sneered back at him, and he snarled, "You want to mess with _me_? Fine, bring it on."

He launched a savage punch, narrowly avoiding one in return as Lovino watched in horror - before several nearby onlookers decided to get in on the act, taking sides and trading insults. Within what seemed like seconds, a full-scale brawl was underway. In the centre of the fracas, Lovino could see his blond guy; laughing maniacally he seemed to actually be _enjoying_ himself! Shaking his head, Lovino moved away, he'd been a fool to think he might fit in here – _this_ wasn't him, however much he'd enjoyed being someone different for a while, this? This was _insane_.

A soft touch on his shoulder made Lovino start violently, but it was only Francis.

"I have been looking for you for quite a while, Lovino," he said with an irritated look, glancing across at Lovino's previous companion. "Did you forget about the time?"

"Shit." He _had_ forgotten about it, caught up for a while in a world not his own. Lovino looked anxiously at his godfather, the last thing he needed was to piss his grandfather off even more.

Francis sighed, "You're okay, the clock has only just struck midnight. We can make it, as long as we leave immediately, but it's a pity you spent so long with Arthur. There was someone who _really_ wanted to meet you, but there's no time now."

Lovino glanced across at the blond who was still trading punches, "Wait, you _know_ him?"

"_Mais_ _oui_, of course I know him, he writes productions for the theatre and one can hardly miss him, I can see his eyebrows from here."

A slight wistful smile lifted Lovino's mouth as he turned to go, then he felt something slide beneath his foot and looked down. A book? Why would a book be _here_? He bent to pick it up and held it towards the light as he opened the front cover. _Peter Pan - Property_ _of_ _Arthur Kirkland_, oh it was _his_, that backpack must have been ripped open in the fight Lovino realised.

"Hey, Francis, this is Arthur's," he held out the book, "since you know him, you can give it back right?"

Francis took the proffered book, "Don't you want to give it to him yourself?" he asked casually.

"No, I don't think so, I like him but he's pretty busy at the moment and it might be awkward. None of this is really my thing," Lovino shrugged, "it was nice to pretend though."

"Don't worry, Lovino, I understand, but have faith, _mon_ _petit_, someday your dreams _will_ come smiling through."

Maybe sometime, Lovino thought, he'd meet someone he could have a _real_ relationship with? Well he could dream, after all – even miracles took time, right? At least tonight had been fun, even if that guy wasn't for him. Lovino sighed, back to the old life…

* * *

A little later, Arthur leant back against the bar and dabbed at the cut on his mouth with a napkin. Damn that stung! Ah well, at least it would heal pretty quickly, he smirked smugly to himself – the other bloke had been _much_ worse off and it wasn't often he got involved in stuff like this anymore. Maybe getting out his old gear had gone to his head tonight, and he'd had too much to drink as well. Arthur frowned slightly but then shrugged, what the hell, he doubted he'd get much writing done tomorrow as though he was sobering up now, he was bound to have a hang-over, but it _had_ been a fun night.

He ignored the glare he was getting from some green-eyed foreigner at the other end of the bar; one fight was quite enough for the evening - but what a stuck-up sod, what was _his_ problem? He looked Mediterranean with his mop of dark hair and tanned skin… that reminded him of the young Italian and forgetting the angry stranger, Arthur wondered where he had got to? He'd disappeared during the brawl and he'd been really hot, but ah well, Arthur guessed it was probably for the best anyway. It was rarely a good idea to hook up with someone when he was drunk, they usually ended up being a total git and besides he wasn't really looking for a relationship right now.

Determinedly, Arthur pushed from his mind the remembrance of that blond haired loudmouth with the blue eyes and stunning smile outside his window the other night. Why on earth did he keep thinking about _that_ bloke? It wasn't as though they were ever likely to meet…

* * *

"_A dream is a wish your heart makes when you're fast asleep. In dreams you will lose your heartaches. Whatever you wish for, you keep. Have faith in your dreams, and someday, your rainbow will come smiling through. No matter how your heart is grieving, if you keep on believing, the dream that you wish will come true."_ **Cinderella, Disney.**

* * *

**A/N: **_**Biondo**_** – blond one (blondie), borrowed from the writings of Blood Dark Sun whose Engmano stories are simply ****wonderful****.**

_**Così**__**caldo**_** – so hot, **_**petite colère**_** – angry little one, **_**délicieux**_** – delicious**

**Prince Charming – Adam and the Ants (originally lol – covered very differently by Gilbert with 'Love's True Fist,' lol XD )**

**Hope you all enjoyed a little Engmano yourselves – variety is a good thing, right? Don't worry we're not through with Antonio and Lovino… maybe if you wish hard enough ;)**

**Thanks again to all readers/followers/faves/reviewers – you're keeping us at it!**

**In Gilbert's Christmas stocking are: TheWeaverofWorlds, Katie-Kat1129, princessofd, Just no one, DarkMoon0327, elizabeta H. Austria, Rey129, Fred and George Weasley Twins, Random toria and Israelle ParadiseIsis Hypnosis.**

**Until Thursday… :)**

**EvilMidget6 and LieutenantProbable ;)**


	5. On the Fourth Day of Christmas

**The Twelve Gays of Christmas**

**On the Fourth Day of Christmas…**

Arthur sighed, resting his head on the desk and looking out of his office window at the dark sky. It had been a long day, he had barely written one hundred words of his new play and he just couldn't find any enthusiasm to continue.

"Oh, Arthur!" He looked up scowling. A voice that annoying could only belong to one person…_Francis_. "Look what I found!" The irritating voice was suddenly matched by a smug face and a book which he had thought lost was dangled before his eyes – though slightly out of reach.

"Where did you get that?" Arthur stood up angrily, knocking over his chair, "Why if you stole it –"

"Stole? _Mais_ _non_, _mon_ _ami_," Francis chuckled before continuing silkily, "_You_ dropped it at the club the other night. You know for a lover of literature, you certainly seemed far more interested in dear Lovino's…biology."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, "Lovino?" Oh, the young Italian he realised, flushing slightly. "How typical, of course _you_ _would_ know him."

Francis held his hands up to his mouth, feigning a scandalised expression, "Monsieur, he is my _godson_."

"As if that would stop _you_."

"For the last time, Arthur, I will try anything except incest…and English cooking," Francis finished smirking.

Arthur ignored the last comment and picked his chair up from the floor. "_Eugh_, to think I kissed someone related to you…even by law." His brow scrunched in distaste, "Now can I please have my book. Back off frog, I am trying to _work_."

Francis scoffed, "Oh a frog am I? Well in that case I might not give your book back, well not for _free_." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, "Hmm, if I am a frog then I think you must _kiss_ me for it. Arthur raised an eyebrow and Francis continued, "Who knows I might even turn into a prince."

Arthur rolled his eyes," I could kiss you a hundred times and you'd still remain a _frog_."

Francis straightened his tie, "You will enjoy it I promise. Everyone enjoys the kiss of a _Frenchman_." He pursed his lips with a leer, "Come…_pucker_."

"You're not serious?"

"Deadly." Francis didn't blink.

Arthur shut his eyes, massaging his brow, "Just one kiss?"

"Unless you beg for more," Francis licked his lips, and Arthur gagged.

"Oh bloody-hell, go on then," Arthur squinted his eyes closed and thrust his cheek towards Francis.

Francis raised an eyebrow, "Arthur, I am not your grandmother."

"Sod off," Arthur turned his face away quickly, but he couldn't hide the faint red glow of embarrassment that now ran across his cheeks.

Francis sighed, "You know, Arthur, I finally figured out what is wrong with you."

"Oh have you, now?!" Arthur folded his arms."

"You do not know how to have FUN. There. Somebody had to say it."

"I do!" Arthur raised his voice in protest.

"Do you have a date for the annual Christmas party yet? And no, props do not count," Francis added shaking his head in remembrance of the previous year.

Each Christmas the theatre held a party to which everyone connected was invited. Writers, actors, musicians and all the associated staff would be in attendance and the event was always in fancy dress. The previous year Arthur had gone as a wizard and insisted that his plushy cat accessory was the only date _he_ needed, much to Francis' despair. He looked at Arthur severely, wondering hopefully if this year might be different.

"I've been busy!" Francis raised an eyebrow and Arthur continued, "And besides… I've figured out what _your_ problem is too."

"I am... too wonderful?"

Arthur snorted in laughter, "No, _you_ haven't realised that your dick's supposed to be in your pants and not in your personality."

Francis held a hand over his chest as he smirked, "Oh, Arthur, how you wound me."

"I wish," Arthur muttered in retort, before sighing. "Can I have my book back now?"

"Arthur, as we already discussed…if you want to turn the slimy frog into a prince, you must kiss him first." Arthur's face resumed a pained look. "But don't worry, I will wine and dine you first."

"Yes, I'm sure you would. I imagine anyone willing to sleep with _you_ would have to be drunk."

Francis dangled the book in front of him, "Arthur…I _am_ serious. You do not have enough fun. So you _are_ going to have a night out with me."

"Oh fine then, so long as I don't have to eat…"

"…French food," Francis laughed cruelly, "But of course you do! Besides, there is a lovely restaurant just off Russell Square; it is called 'Tiana's Place.' The cuisine consists mainly of New Orleans' specialities, however Gilbert told me it recently added a new French section to the menu in honour of the historical connections, and I have been meaning to try it."

"Gilbert? I thought his taste was 'almost as bad as Arthur's.'" Arthur did a mock impersonation of Francis' voice, making him sound far more throaty than usual.

"His new boyfriend, Roderich suggested it. Quite the little princess, but I can't imagine he would have bad taste in food. He actually expressed concern over what you English eat, and he's been living here for a long time, yet he utterly refuses to touch anything prepared by the British."

Arthur folded his arms, "Well there is no way I am _kissing_ a frog, _and_ eating one on the same day."

"Order what you like, but I cannot promise that you will not surrender to my dashing charms." He jiggled his eyebrows and Arthur almost had to stifle a laugh before retorting.

"Now that _would_ be a weird experience for you …watching someone _else_ surrender for once."

* * *

Arthur was due to be picked up by Francis at eight o'clock sharp the very next evening. He hadn't really been sure what to wear, for all he knew Francis was setting him up for a something horrible. It wouldn't be the first time he had tricked him like that (last time they had gone out together, he had woken up in a barn and spent the morning being chased by livestock and a very angry farmer) but regardless, he had chosen a deep blue long sleeved sweater and a tight pair of jeans.

When Francis came to the door, _he_ had chosen something a little more…flashy.

"Why are you wearing _that_ get up?" The shock was palpable in his voice and he couldn't tear his eyes away from…well, whatever it was that Francis was wearing.

"It is a _very_ expensive suit," Francis replied coolly.

"But it's bright green!"

"Well, I am a frog, am I not?" Francis smirked, adjusting his lapels.

Arthur shook his head in exasperation, "Let's just get this over with."

Francis looked at him pityingly, "It must be strange to be saying that to someone else for once."

A short taxi drive later, they arrived at the restaurant. Truth be told, it was an extremely nice place and Arthur grudgingly admitted (though only to himself) that Francis did have good taste, at least when it came to food (he was _still_ shuddering at the suit). The smell alone was simply divine in here.

As an attendant showed them to their table and left to fetch drinks, Francis shot him a smug smile "It is nice, is it not?"

"I suppose it's okay…" Arthur trailed off and his eyes grew wide as he looked at the speciality menu, suddenly feeing the need to defend his culture. "Hey, Francis, why wasn't Jesus born in France? …He couldn't find three wise men."

"…Or a virgin," Francis added glibly, before pausing. "_Look_ at that waiter, _mon_ _ami_, _honhonhonhon_… the things I could do to _him_." He threw his hand up into the air and beckoned the smartly dressed young man over.

Arthur looked up to see who Francis was drooling over this time, and stopped dead in his blue eyes were even bluer than he had remembered despite being behind glasses; but yes - blond hair with an adorable cowlick, and that _dazzling_ smile… he'd only seen it once, and was astounded that he recalled it so clearly.

It was him, the star boy. _Alfred_.

"_Bong-jaw_," the waiter greeted them with the least French sounding voice imaginable. Francis raised an eyebrow and Arthur smirked behind a hastily raised hand, he wouldn't want to hurt the poor chap's feelings. "_Jer_-_ma_...I mean, _uh_…I am _je_ Alfred," he finished, looking slightly (and appealingly) flushed, but fairly pleased to have scrambled his way through the greeting reasonably well (he thought).

"Alas, not quite the music of an authentic French accent," Francis laughed. "But do not worry my dear boy; we will not be reporting your language deficiencies, _you_ are tempting my appetite, even speaking a sickened language such as English."

Arthur sought desperately for something say as he watched Francis flirting. 'Bollocks,' he thought, 'this would be so much easier if I'd had a few more drinks.'

"Really dude, do you think so?" Alfred asked eagerly missing the double-entendre, "I've been practicing for ages and getting in loads of trouble 'cause I don't think I get the language so well, but I'm sure glad you think I'm lovely and French and stuff!"

"_I_ knew you weren't French," Arthur finally spoke up, "you don't smell of garlic."

Alfred laughed, "I could get a couple of cloves from the kitchen if you think it would improve the experience?"

Arthur shook his head, "No, no... even that wouldn't be enough. You'd also have to be at least half-drunk."

"For the last time, you are not drunk if you are only drinking _wine_." Francis punctuated his comment by downing the remaining contents of his glass.

"Anyway guys, what can I get for ya?" Alfred interrupted with a smile.

Francis rolled his eyes as Arthur looked down at the menu, struggling to pronounce a single dish correctly and hesitating over what to choose, until Francis finally ordered for them both. "We'll have the Chateaubriand, _s'il_ _vous_ _plait_, followed by… Cerises jubilee, I suddenly have a fancy for something sweet," he purred.

Alfred smiled obliviously at them, "So, are you guys together or married or…"

"As if!" Francis fell about laughing.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, "And here I thought you'd try everything but _incest_."

"…And British cuisine, Arthur. _Please_, I have no desire to sample your 'toad in the hole.'" Francis wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"Married people don't have sex!" Arthur smiled briefly,

Francis raised his glass in agreement, "Not with one another at least."

"There are people in France actually getting married now?"

Francis nodded his head sadly, "The youths of today are besmirching our cultural values."

Alfred laughed politely and took down the details of their meal, giving Arthur a final long look, before taking their order towards the kitchen.

Arthur watched him walk away with a pang of regret, before turning back to Francis and hoping his face didn't look as wistful as his heart felt. "I trust you've ordered something nice?"

Francis raised an eyebrow, "Do not try and distract me, _mon_ _ami_, I saw the way you looked at him." He inclined his head towards Alfred.

Arthur shook his head, "What…I…no."

"_Pshh_, you didn't even shout at him for calling 'herbs' – '_erbs'_. If that is not love, I don't know what is."

Francis continued until their food was delivered to them. He then smirked as he saw Arthur's face light up when he and Alfred made eye contact, and had to actually bite his lip to keep from talking. As they both said their 'thank you's' he started to think up a plan…

"Well, I hate to say it, Frenchie, but that was really _quite_ delicious," Arthur's mood had improved at every glance from the handsome waiter. "Are we splitting the bill?"

"_Non_, _non_, _non_, Arthur, _I_ will get the check," Francis waved his hand nonchalantly. "Actually, could you wait outside for me while I do so? The staff here are almost as pretty as the food, and last thing I want to happen is another good looking waiter thinking I am married to _you_."

Arthur looked alarmed, clearly wanting to protest and Francis sighed, "Do not worry; I will not touch your pretty American boy."

Arthur became too embarrassed to argue, and resolved to wait outside whilst Francis paid the bill and in his words, "picked up a little _dessert_."

* * *

Francis muttered to himself, as he watched yet _another_ beautiful member of the waiting staff waltz past him. Still, it _was_ Christmas, so he had to do at least one good deed for those less fortunate than himself, and with Arthur's eyebrows… well, it would have to be a pretty spectacular good deed to make up for _those_ monsters.

Casually, he waited till Alfred was alone before walking up to him.

"Hey dude, did you want something else?" Alfred smiled, before pausing as he noticed Arthur's absence, "Hey, where's the other guy? Did you and your boyfriend have or fight or something? I mean, you didn't seem very friendly to each other, but I just assumed…"

Francis tried to mask the incredulity on his face. As though someone as beautiful as himself would ever go for _Arthur_. "Fight? _Mais non_, _mon_ _ami_, it is as I said, and that was just light banter between friends." He winced, assuring himself that he had made the word 'friends' sound as loosely defined as possible. "I _assure_ you he is perfectly single."

Francis smiled slightly as the man's face seemed to light up at his words. "Actually, _monsieur_, that is something I wanted to discuss with you," he began delicately. "There is to be a Christmas party at the theatre next week – a _soirée_ for the cast and crew..."

Alfred's mouth dropped open, "You guys work at the theatre? No way!"

Francis smiled, "_Oui_, it is quite wonderful, but anyway, what I actually wished to ask is this… my companion's date for the evening, _er_, cancelled on him." Francis lied glibly, as he watched Arthur from the corner of his eye through the window. Wincing slightly, he saw him pull a teenager back by the ear and force him to pick up a piece of litter he had discarded. '_Merde_,' he thought to himself, hoping Alfred hadn't noticed, yelling at fourteen year old 'litter-bugs' _really_ couldn't do much for the man's sex appeal. "To be brief, _mon_ _cher_, I was wondering if _you_ would like to go with him. It is a costume party but –"

"A costume party! I am _so_ there!" Alfred interrupted him, his voice brimming with excitement, "Sounds like a freakin' blast. I'm gonna go as superman, no - batman, no –"

Francis smiled at his enthusiasm before gently interrupting. "Everyone in attendance must be dressed as a fairy tale character – in keeping with the pantomimes which are being performed over the Christmas period," he explained.

"Oh." Alfred thought for a moment, "Well, finding a fairy-tale guy who wears awesome tights can't be _too_ hard right. Yea, tell –"

"Arthur." Francis informed him.

Alfred paused for a moment, could it _really_ be him? From the night with the star - the man in the window? He remembered the voice… could it really be _that_ Arthur?

He felt suddenly flustered, "Yes, tell …Arthur… that I'd love to come."

"Excellent! I will add you to the guest list, although if you do not mind my dear, I was hoping to keep it a surprise."

"No, that's fine," Alfred responded absentmindedly, trying to remember if he had caught a glimpse of the man in the window. He was only awakened from this trance by a buzz from his cell-phone."

"Aw man, not _again_," He groaned as he checked the message, "Sorry dude, but I gotta go. I just got a text from my brother, Mattie's phone. Some guy got a paper cut at work and he's passed out, they need me to come and get him."

He casually flashed Francis the picture of the caller id, and for a moment Francis was stunned. _Mon_ _dieu_, that man was _beautiful_.

"Yo, are you okay man? Don't tell me you're going to pass out too?" Alfred snapped his fingers in front of Francis's face.

"_Non_, _non_, I am perfectly fine. I will…I will see you at the party."

* * *

"Hooligans!" Arthur shook his fist at yet another passer-by who had failed to drop their plastic bottle into the recycling bin, "There are bins here for a reason!"

"Arthur, I may well be a frog, but _you_ are certainly _no_ princess," Francis approached him with a grin, "perhaps a very environmentally aware pirate. You know, I once met a delightful young man, just a couple of miles from here, I think he called himself 'Captain Hooker.'"

Arthur wrinkled his nose, "That's revolting."

"Oh I don't know, he was quite the _salty_ _seaman_…if you know what I mean," Francis raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Arthur shook his head, "So, did you catch a date in there," He gestured towards the restaurant.

"I'm afraid not, no…" Francis feigned disappointment, 'Not for myself anyway,' he thought smirking. "Fortunately, I recalled you still owe me that kiss..."

"Really, Francis? _Still_…?" Arthur groaned, but he sighed in resignation and resolutely closed his eyes.

Laughing softly, Francis stopped him - pressing his fingers to Arthur's lips. "You are a perfect English gentleman, are you not? Well, I have heard that English gentlemen do not kiss and tell… so we won't mention this," Francis decided, and Arthur shook his head in laughter. "Your book will be back on your desk by Monday."

"I'm surprised you let me off so easily."

"I am feeling unusually charitable tonight," Francis smirked to himself. "Although, if you _do_ wish to bed me, you know you have only to ask."

"No, that's quite alright, you hop on home," Arthur laughed at his own joke. "Go safely, Francis."

"You too, Arthur, and do _try_ not to get into any fights on the way home."

"Fights? Englishmen don't fight…they merely refrain from inviting to dinner," he called out as Francis's slender figure disappeared into the darkness.

Arthur turned away and began the long walk back to his apartment.

Sighing, as he made his solitary way home, he remembered how wonderful Alfred had looked at the restaurant. It appeared that he had not been recognised, or if he had… then Alfred clearly wasn't interested. Arthur tried to suppress his disappointment, 'It serves me right for wishing on stars,' he scolded himself, 'I should know better, the ONLY way to get what you want in this world - is through hard work.' Pausing, he cast one last pleading look at the star, before slowly continuing with his lonely walk.

* * *

"_The evening star is shinin' bright. So make a wish and hold on tight. There's magic in the air tonight, and anything can happen…" _**The Princess and the Frog, Disney.**

* * *

**A/N: Chateaubriand steak, or just chateaubriand, is a recipe of a particular thick cut from the tenderloin (fillet), it is traditionally served with herb roasted small "new potatoes" or "chat potatoes" and either Bearnaise or mustard sauce.**

**Cerises Jubilee refers to a dessert made with fresh pitted cherries, sugar and Kirsch which are mixed together, flambéed and then poured over vanilla ice cream.**

**Apologies for being a day late with this update, RL will intervene…**

**Huge thanks to our readers/followers/faves and reviewers, you are SO rewarding to write for, keeps us wanting to do more :)**

**Ludwig's Christmas goodies: Ginygroov, garryxmrchairfan, Fred and George Weasley Twins, Katie-Kat1129, Rey129, Random toria, Fuzzop, zoewinter1, TheWeaverofWorlds, princessofd, elizabeta H. Austria, Inuyashagirl7692, Israelle ParadiseIsis Hypnosis and qnon. Just fabulous guys!**

**Hope to see you in a couple of days :)**

**EvilMidget6 and LieutenantProbable ;)**


	6. On the Fifth Day of Christmas

**The Twelve Gays of Christmas**

**On the Fifth Day of Christmas…**

Five golden rings! That's what I put on _my_ fingers, after all you can like _never_ have too much jewellery, and I wanted to look as classy as possible for 'The Three Bears' tonight.

'The Three Bears' is the most totally, adorable gay club in the world. Like, I've never actually been, but since I lost my job I've been all 'Well Felix, you'd better find a boyfriend', 'cause otherwise I'll like get homeless, and that could give me _so_ many split ends.

I said goodbye to my ponies. Not real ponies (unfortunately) - I did own one once, but I tried to dye it this cool hipster pink like the one in the wizard of Oz, and I like totally got arrested for it. They let me off once they realised who I was, but now I'm only allowed toy ones from that 'my little pony' thing. It's actually totally cool, like they have such good style – it makes me totally wish that _I_ was a pony. _My_ pony name would be 'Toodle-Muffin' or 'Marshmallow Delight' or something totally bad ass like that.

Anyway, aside from my rings - I plaited my hair, 'cause like - I'm going to 'The Three Bears', what's the point if I don't make the effort and dress up as Goldilocks? And I put on this _adorable_ checked dress. It's got this mega-frilly lacy bit at the bottom, and everyone will totally want a slice of my Polish cheese cake.

So anyhow, I spent all this months' rent money on this _wicked_ pink limo, only I forgot where the club was and got lost, so eventually I sort of had to escape the car on a random traffic light. But it was okay 'cause next door there was this _awesome_ wood-work shop type thing, and I asked the guy in there. I totally couldn't understand _what_ he was saying, but this ADORABLE Finnish slice was dressed as Santa and he showed me the way (although the scary mumbly man came as well).

Once we got there I was all, "Omg you should _so_ have some _drinks_ with me," and I winked to make sure he knew that by drinks… I didn't _mean_ drinks. But then the other guy looked all scarily at me and I was like, "Why do you even need him? You're a carpenter, if you want a boyfriend so badly you should just make one. _Pssh_ have you not even seen _Pinocchio_?" And the cute guy's all "No," and the other guy mumbles something that sounds like 'sh'merdil, de'rdil, pe'rdil,' so I took it as a lost cause and went into the club.

That was when the CRAZIEST thing happened to me. I was like, looking for chairs, cause _obvs_ not going to dance and ruin my hair, but like the chairs are either too hard or too soft and then when I _finally_ found one I liked, it totally breaks on me! I totally wished the press were there so I could tell my story, but they like weren't, so instead I laughed and laughed 'cause I was so _totally_ Goldilocks, and I tried to tell the big hairy guy next to me. I was all, "I like I _had_ to tell you 'cause you're 'Daddy Bear'". But he just gives me this weird look, and was all, "My name is _Carlos_, why did you call me that?" And I was like "_Hello_! If you didn't want to be called 'Daddy Bear' then you shouldn't be wearing your Hawaiian shirt open like that." _Seriously_, his chest hair was like an enchanted forest. Anyway, I decided he was _waaayyy_ too scary and went to talk to the next dude.

Now this guy had really pretty long hair, and was totally wearing a dress like me, so I was all, "We need to swap style tips!" But then _he_ like totally turned out to be a chick! Eliza, was _her_ name, and I was like, "Wow I am _so_ jealous," (even though I secretly wasn't 'cause _my_ name is way sexier). So anyway, she was out with these four other dudes, and three of them were having fun, but one of them – the one with glasses, apparently wouldn't stop bitching. So I went over to tell him, that he should just wear contact lenses if the glasses are making him so unhappy, but then one of the dudes with him who had white hair (_so_ clearly dyed, like _omg_). Well, he must have been _totally_ jealous that I'm a natural blonde, 'cause he started shouting at me. Started yelling about his brother - that Ludwig guy, and I'm all, "Why shout at me? I totally saved him." But then I remembered that it was actually Feliciano, which was mondo-embarrassing. Luckily the manly-woman chick saved me, so I was all, "_Omg_, you could _so_ be Mamma bear. Like I'm gay, so I wouldn't go anywhere near your pants porridge, or comfy-chairs, but this guy earlier was Daddy Bear, and since you're Mamma Bear - there is no freakin' _way_ I am not Goldilocks." So she was like laughing with me, but the white haired guy wasn't happy, and he tells me to, "Fuck off and find Baby Bear."

So I was like, "Well maybe I will!" And so I basically looked for the cutest guy in the club to make him mega-jealous, which turned out to be totally easy cause the guy at the bar was _so_ unbelievably sexy-fine. I basically just went over to introduce myself. I gave him the whole, "You've probably heard of me, I'm Felix, I'm pretty much the most famous singer/actor/reality-tv star _ever," _- like you can't _see_ me do it, but basically it was the sexiest thing in the world. He hadn't though, so I was a bit disappointed, but the way he got this confused expression on his face and kept saying sorry, was _totes_ adorable!

Eventually I found out his name was Toris, so I was like, " Hey, Toris, are you a parking ticket? …Because you've got _FINE_ written all over you." Only he like laughed, and said he liked my irony. So then I was mega- _offended,_ 'cause my rings are made out of _gold_ not iron, but luckily I remembered what my mother said about some people not having the same gift for fashion as I do. It made me so sad that I started to cry. Like, can you _believe_ there are people out there who don't even know that stripes and checks don't go! _EUGH_!

Anyway, because I looked all sexy crying, Toris comes over to comfort me and asks me why I'm sobbing. I couldn't tell him it's 'cause his dark green jacket is mega tacky, so instead I said I spent all my rent and have nowhere to stay, and he seems so distraught that he asked me to come home with him.

So after he'd finished his shift, we went back to his and got talking. I started telling him that his bed is "Just right" – which turns out to be the best pick up line _ever_! Well anyway, he was laughing and I kissed him 'cause why not, right?' Anyway I must be the best freakin' kisser _ever_, because by the time we were done he had my cherry lip-gloss smeared all over his face, which looked SO adorable. So I started licking it, and then I stopped 'cause it says something about being 'non-edible' on the back. I mean, I totally don't know what non-edible means, but it must have something to do with lots of calories or something, 'cause it's all written in scary red.

I spent the night (if you know what I mean ;) and he asked me if I wanted breakfast. So I asked for porridge, and then started doing the whole "Too hot… too cold" thing, which seemed to really bug him, but he like didn't say anything. So I'm like 'wow, he must totally love my macho persona' and I started rejecting everything he offered me, just to show him that I'm a bit of a bad-boy. So then he offered to chase me out of the house, just like in the _real_ three bears and I'm all _OMG_ he _totally_ knew what I was doing! He is _so_ smart AND he knows all about my favourite book. So I told him that and he blushed and then I was like, "You're so Baby Bear and I'm Goldilocks" but he got all weirded out on me - because that would be _really_ gross if Baby Bear and Goldilocks did what we just did (but it's fine because they didn't _really_) and I told him that, and then I kissed him which seemed to cheer him up _a lot_. Then he asked if I might want to stay another night.

My answer?

"Totally."

* * *

_"Someone's been sleeping in my bed and she's still there!" exclaimed Baby bear_. **Goldilocks and the Three Bears.**

* * *

**A/N: We're posting as regularly as possible, sorry for delays.**

**Loads of thanks to all our followers/faves/readers/reviewers as always!**

**Alfred's Christmas Crackers: Random toria, garryxmrchairfan, zoewinter1, Katie-Kat1129, Rey129, ZanyAnimeGirl, princessofd, elizabeta H. Austria, TomatoRedFerrari, Fred and George Weasley Twins, DarkMoon0327, TheEroticFox, Janders.**

**See you in a few days!**

**EvilMidget6 and LieutenantProbable :D **


	7. On the Sixth Day of Christmas

**The Twelve Gays of Christmas**

**On the Sixth Day of Christmas…**

"_Nyet_," Ivan muttered the word harshly.

Again he had found nothing, but he was more and more convinced that there _was_ something to find. He drummed the fingers of one large hand idly on the polished wood of his desktop as he thought about his business partner with distaste.

He no longer trusted Monstrynski, and all the reasons why it had seemed such a financially sound move to merge their companies were losing ground when set against his own developing suspicions. Ivan sighed, on paper their property holdings were a good match but over the past few months he had begun to notice discrepancies in the books. Sums of money which disappeared and were unaccounted for, yet these were mysteriously replaced – in fact _increased_ by multiple payments which didn't make sense. He could find no paperwork to support these deposits, nor any indication as to where the initial sums had gone and that worried him.

Their joint company was undoubtedly doing well. The rents they received for the many apartments sub-let in buildings they owned made them both very rich men… and that was before the property portfolio itself was taken into account. This building and the theatre were worth a tidy sum in this city alone. Ivan could have sat back and just watched the money continue to roll in, but he knew something was _wrong_.

He pictured his partner mentally and repressed a shudder of loathing. Boris Monstrynski was huge, which in itself was no issue (Ivan himself was a big man at six feet tall and he was _built_), but the other used his size to bully and intimidate. Ivan remembered the way he had loomed threateningly over his housekeeper for some small mistake that very morning in the adjoining penthouse, and his mouth tightened. The woman was oriental, young and tiny; there had been no need for such behaviour and he was angered by the recollection of it. She had undoubtedly been terrified, even the blossom in her hair trembling as she turned her face away from the thick lips spraying spittle and abusive words from far too close to her. Yet she had merely apologized before scurrying from the room, leaving Ivan with no reasonable excuse to intervene on her behalf and he had caught glimpses of such treatment on other occasions towards those in no position to retaliate.

SNAP! "_Govno_," he cursed in irritation, looking down at the pen which had shattered as his fist clenched with the echo of his anger. Shaking his head at his own clumsiness, Ivan shook the splintered remains into the bin, before taking out another and bending his head back over the paperwork. The day was fine and despite the chilly air of December, pale sunshine streamed through the plate glass window opposite but Ivan was oblivious. He _knew_ there had to be a trail here, something he could use to discover what was going on… and he _would_ find it.

* * *

Many floors below, on the eighth level to be precise, someone else was taking advantage of the temporary break in the weather.

Dressed warmly in a heavy coat; and with a blue and white scarf wound around the olive column of his throat, Heracles leant back against the wall of the apartment block and enjoyed the sensation of sunshine on his face. "_Mmmm_," drowsily, he closed his green eyes in pleasure. When the weather permitted; which wasn't as often as he would have liked (hey, this _was_ England after all), he often sat out here on the fire escape, since he loved to look out over the city and daydream.

The fire escape was like a series of small balconies, running down the building in a line, with inter-connecting ladders between them; and Heracles had thought often - that the best thing _about_ his tiny flat, was that one of his windows gave access to the small metal area in which he now sitting. In the summer he had been able to read or doze here in the sunshine and he liked the view too, up here so high where he was above the fumes and pollution of the busy streets below.

_Hmm_…over the last few months he had found something he liked to look at even more, and sometimes he was lucky enough to catch glimpses of that here too.

Heracles Karpusi was descended from a Greek family with a history of connections to the arts; most of his family were involved with tv or the theatre in some capacity, although he was the only member currently based in London. Heracles worked at the Hetalia theatre nearby as a stage-hand, a job he thoroughly enjoyed, and he had found that it suited him down to the ground. He enjoyed watching the shows, and the evening hours had never bothered him – in fact they were a bonus, as they meant he got to sleep-in in the mornings and he'd never been an early riser. His position at the theatre was also what had gained him the apartment in which he now lived as both buildings were owned by the same company and many employees were housed here, conveniently close to their employment. Sure the rent was a little high, and he had to live cheaply, but it _was_ a good location. Primarily a rigger, in charge of the ropes, lifts and hoists for the productions, Heracles also helped with other special effects, or sometimes with scenery or lighting and sound…

The last was where he had first encountered his neighbour – of sorts.

A few weeks previously, Heracles had been asked to assist with the arrangement of the lighting for their latest show and he had been introduced to the technician in charge. Honda Kiku had only been with the theatre since the summer, but his use of the latest technology to enhance the visual appeal of productions was innovative and had interested Heracles immediately.

After several days of working in close proximity with the quiet and hardworking young man, he was even more fascinated, but knew him scarcely any better than he had before. A Japanese expatriate, with black hair and a slender build, Heracles thought that Kiku was probably around his own age and shy, but he had very little more knowledge of him other than that. He had lazily observed him though, several times when he had a moment, and his interest had grown further, but Kiku kept himself-to-himself and despite trying, he had not so far managed to find a reason to get to know him any better.

One thing which he _had_ discovered, only a week before in fact – though by accident, was that Kiku lived in the apartment directly below his own.

Calling his cat, Clio, (who had wandered out onto the fire escape) to come for her food one evening, Heracles had wondered where she'd gotten to? Normally she was there pretty speedily at the sound of her bowl being tapped with a fork… and she never ventured too far from the apartment. After some minutes of waiting expectantly, he had decided to check and climbed onto the fire escape peering upwards into the darkness, "Clio? _Cliiiooo_…" Still nothing.

Beginning to feel worried, Heracles had descended the ladder below his floor, stopping half-way to look searchingly around… and _there_ she was. Feeling a bit irritated after his anxious moments, Heracles had watched her a bit indignantly as she flirtatiously slinked up and down the windowsill of the seventh floor flat beneath his own, purring rhythmically as she rubbed her head against the slim hands that caressed her. It was the delighted low laugh that had first wiped the frown from his face, this guy loved cats too! Then as he finally came all the way down the ladder he had realized – it was Kiku.

Kiku hadn't noticed him at first, his warm brown eyes had glowed with pleasure as he stroked the sleek fur, and his face was for once totally unguarded - a smile curving his mouth, and Heracles was mesmerised.

"You… should smile more often," he'd spoken the words in his usual drawl, not thinking about their effect on Kiku who had almost _leapt_ back from the window, his face paling at the unexpected words from the darkness. "Hey… it's okay… it's me, Herc, I was looking for Clio." Heracles had moved into the light from the window as he spoke and been relieved to see Kiku's body relax slightly, though his face had remained tense. "I see you've been… corrupting her," he'd added easily, nodding towards the traitor (who had turned her head to glare at him for the loss of her admirer).

"Corrupting…? Oh, I _see_, she is your cat then? She is beautiful," Kiku had finally spoken softly, tentatively extending his hand once more to caress the soft fur. A positive storm of purring had rewarded him and a very slight smile raised one corner of his mouth once more.

"Would you like a drink?" He'd finally asked hesitantly as Heracles had continued to smile through the window at him, "I was preparing tea for myself…" He'd trailed off, gesturing to the steaming pot nearby on the kitchen counter and gesturing for Heracles to enter when he nodded in agreement.

Heracles had been pleased. Tea? Well he might have preferred something 'stronger' but at least he was finally getting to meet the guy…

They had taken their tea in the small sitting room which was very bare but almost painfully neat, the only furnishings - a small worn couch with a low table and rug before it, and a really old-looking gaming console with tiny monitor,

Heracles had noticed that there was a game on pause, the colours on the screen were the most vivid in the dingy room and drawn his eye. He'd studied the frozen image, a little fat man sat cross-legged in garish robes while an elf (?!) maybe (he had pointed ears and was dressed in green) stood before him – arms upraised with something hovering above his hands. It looked a little like a multi-coloured peapod and Heracles had given Kiku a lazily amused, questioning glance, "You're a gamer?"

Kiku had flushed awkwardly, "A little, but I like to play, when I have the time." He was _too_ cute.

"What is it? It looks…interesting?" He'd asked slowly, "is that...a pea?!"

"It's the Legend of Zelda, a very old game," Kiku had explained glancing fondly at the image, "and no, it's not a pea, it's a magic bean."

"Would you show me?" Heracles had asked gently and was rewarded with his first very own smile.

"Of course."

* * *

Since that evening, Heracles had gone down the metal ladder every evening and the two had gradually gotten to know each other. He knew he was developing strong feelings for Kiku and wanted to get closer, but he wasn't sure how that would be received, so he waited… there was plenty of time after all.

Heracles glanced at his watch, he was early tonight – but the sun had left his little patch and he was starting to feel chilled. Besides, he was looking forward to seeing his friend and he was sure Kiku wouldn't mind.

After descending the ladder, Heracles moved to the window, but he froze at the sight which met his eyes, his heart seeming to drop with a painful lurch.

Kiku…! With a strange _woman_ in his arms?! He could see the pair through the open doorway, holding one another tightly before they moved towards the front door… she was leaving then? Standing still in shock, Heracles noted that she was pretty, _really_ pretty – petit and with a flower in her long dark hair… but she looked sad – as with a final touch of Kiku's face she left the apartment. Heracles moved back, he had a _girlfriend_! Everything he'd hoped for was only in his own imagination, he needed to leave; but then he noticed… Kiku hadn't moved away from the door, in fact he was leaning against it… and crying?

Without thought, without even realising he had done it, Heracles was through the window and taking the shaking figure into his arms. "_Shh_… hey… it's okay. Your girlfriend, she… left _you_? Then she's a fool." He comforted, holding him close.

"_G-Girlfriend_?" Kiku managed, slowly pulling himself together and moving away from where he had been thankfully supported against the taller man's chest, "She's my _sister_!"

"Oh!" Heracles tried to keep the relieved grin off his face, but it proved impossible and when they caught one another's eyes, _both_ men blushed. Then Heracles frowned, "Wait a minute, if you weren't getting dumped, then why were you so upset?"

"I don't want to burden you with my problems, Heracles…" Kiku began.

"No please, if you're in trouble, I want to help you, we're friends aren't we?"

"No-one can help," Kiku said bleakly, "but thank you – for being my friend."

After a little arguing – and some coaxing, the truth came out and it seemed to do Kiku good to unburden himself, but Heracles could scarcely believe what he heard.

_Monstrynski…_that _fucker_! Heracles had only met the guy a few times (and hadn't liked what he'd seen of the big bastard much), and he'd known the rent was high on these apartments – but this! This was blackmail and coercion, almost slavery! Kiku and his sister, their friends too… somehow both families had got into debt after Kiku's mother and the parents of the others had died in an accident, his father had been forced to borrow money to support them all, at an _extortionate_ rate before the stroke that killed him too.

Now Boris Monstrynski virtually _owned_ them, all four were forced to pay him most of what they earned each month, but although they had already paid off more than had been borrowed – that was just in interest. Apparently, he kept Kiku's sister, Mei, and his friend's brother, Leon, working directly for him as surety, using their safety as a threat. Heracles mentioned the police and Kiku shrank back… something about papers the guy had, and losing their right to stay in the country… what he would do to the others. Well no way! After reassuring Kiku as much as he was able, Heracles went back to his own rooms and began to plan…

* * *

The next night, Heracles brought back with him various pieces of equipment from the theatre: ropes, pulleys and a harness – he had everything he needed and as soon as it was dark he made his way up to the top of the fire escape.

The fire exits for the penthouses at the top of the building; were separated from the rest - having no ladder in-situ to the floors below, but rather their own – which could be lowered at will. This was way up, out-of-reach and there was also a bigger gap than normal between the penthouse exit and the highest of the regular 'balconies', there should be no burglaries here, but Heracles was unfazed. He knew what he was about and was not discouraged by the seeming impossibility of the dangerous task; _this_ was where his special equipment would come in. Donning thin, grip enhancing gloves and high above the city, he balanced precariously on the rail as he set up his rigging, but he was sure in his skill and twenty minutes later he peered carefully through a large window to the sumptuous kitchen within.

Inside, he could see Mei as she prepared a meal for that greedy bastard; and Heracles wished he would choke on it. He waited.

Eventually, Mei placed the food (and a large bottle of wine) carefully on a large tray and left the kitchen, turning the light off as she went. Taking a deep breath, Heracles forced the catch and was quickly inside – moving to the door, he listened.

"Where's that other bottle of wine, girl?" The loud, hectoring tone rang clearly in the room beyond, Monstrynski sounded drunk already, slurring as he spoke and Heracles gritted his teeth as he heard what came next. "Well bring it to me! I'm not going to reach all the way over there and for it!" SLAP! "Stupid bitch, you spilled some, clean it up and stop cringing down there, you're too small as it is," he gave a guttural, spiteful laugh. "Makes me feel like a giant to be around _you_," he belched noisily before chuckling again, "Fe-Fo-Fi-Fum… tonight big Boris is gonna get some…" Heracles tensed, wondering if he was going to have to act _now_, but there was no further sound from beyond the door until after a tense period of waiting, some twenty minutes long a rasping snore filled the air.

Almost immediately, the door opened and Mei came wearily through bearing the same tray she had left with earlier – the food untouched. As she set it carefully on the counter, Heracles put a hand across her mouth before whispering against her ear, "I'm a friend of Kiku's, do you understand?" A hesitant nod, but her body was still tense against him, "I'm here to get the papers… everything… so you can all be free of him… if I let you go… will you be quiet?" Mei relaxed slightly against him and nodded more decisively and slowly, Heracles released her.

As she turned to face him, Mei's eyes widened, "I know who _you_ are," she whispered, "Kiku has spoken of you to me. He thinks a _great_ deal of you, I know. Are you _really_ going to do this for us? Help us get away from that pig?" She gestured scornfully to the other room, "What can I do to help?"

"Do you know where he keeps the papers?" Heracles held his breath, if it wasn't here, then all this would have been for nothing, but he hoped…

"He has a safe in the bedroom, but I've never been able to see the combination, he sends me away," Mei returned in frustration.

"Just get me in there."

As they crept through the dim light of luxurious living room, some hint of their presence caused the huge man to half-wake, even in his drunken stupor, "Who goes there?" He slurred, the impact of the statement somewhat lessened by a flatulent accompaniment which his sudden movement had jostled free.

"There's no-one here, sir, only me," Mei answered, managing to speak calmly, even as she gesticulated wildly towards the opposite door. Heracles slipped quickly through it as the drunken businessman squinted at her.

"Well shut up, or I'll grind your bones… to make my bread," He gave a half-hearted swat in her general direction as he laughed at his own joke, and heaved himself to his feet, "I'm going to bed…"

Mei watched in horror as he staggered to the bedroom, as listened to the sounds of him moving about the room, but no sudden uproar was heard and she realised that Heracles must have hidden.

Inside the room, Heracles stood motionless behind the heavy velvet curtains and peered through a chink between them. It was hardly ideal, but had been the only place he could get to quickly when he heard that brute coming this way.

Filled with loathing for this red-faced, giant bully, he watched in silence as Monstrynski slowly began to undress – removing his tie and swaying as he kicked off his shoes. Unbuckling his belt, the big slob frowned as he felt the heavy wallet he had crammed into his trouser pocket, and he pulled it out, seeming to debate in his drunken state whether or not he could be bothered to deposit it safely. Fortunately for the watching Heracles, old habits died hard and sighing heavily, he stomped across the floor to the wall nearby, leaning against it with one hand while he dialled a combination with the other.

_Less_ fortunately, he was so uncoordinated and inept in his current state that it took him three tries before he managed to get it open, by which time Heracles was almost sweating in a fever of nervous impatience, he was only going to get one chance at this…

Now! Inside the safe he glimpsed a sheaf of papers resting beside piles of money and sundry other items and leaping from his hiding place, Heracles powered a punch to the side of Monstrynski's head which knocked him off balance. _Un_fortunately, it didn't knock him down.

Swaying from side-to-side as he shook his head like a great bear, Monstrynski let out a roar of rage and he went for his uninvited guest. Heracles ducked a blow which would have laid him out cold and snatching wildly, managed to snag a handful of the papers before fleeing the room one step ahead of his pursuer, who had slammed shut the safe as he came. Heracles could only hope desperately that the papers he needed were in his hand.

"I can smell your fear, boy; you think you can steal from _me_?" The giant was right behind him! For such a big man… and a drunk, Monstrynski moved amazingly quickly and Heracles was forced to dart nimbly around a coffee table to evade another punishing blow. This time, the other man was not quick enough and he crashed over the edge of the table, though still managing to grasp one of Heracles' ankles as he fell. Heracles kicked out, trying to dislodge him… but it wasn't going to be enough…

THUMP! Monstrynski sprawled unconscious to the floor as Mei delivered a swift kick to the back of his head.

"Fe-Fi _that_, you big ape!" She spat the words at the silent form before turning her attention to Heracles. "You have them?" She asked gesturing to the papers still clutched in his hand.

Heracles nodded weakly, "I hope so."

"Then we need to get out of here before he comes around."

* * *

Several hours later, Mei had left with Leon who had arrived to collect her, all of them agreeing that those two needed to be safely away - now that they were free of the monster.

Whilst they were fairly sure that Heracles would not be recognised again, the fight had been too quick and the penthouse lighting dim…the raid had _not_ been a _complete_ success.

When they checked the paperwork downstairs in Heracles apartment, they found that he had indeed got those for Kiku, Mei and Leon, together with a few others belonging to people Leon knew. _Those_ Leon would deliver to the people concerned before he and Mei went away… but the documents pertaining to Leon's brother Yao were _not_ amongst them.

Leon had spoken to Yao by phone and reluctantly agreed that the best help he could give at the moment was to be out of the way. Yao would be in a better position now – without the threat to his younger brother being held over him… but he was not free _yet_.

Finally alone with Kiku, Heracles sighed as he looked over at him, "I'm so sorry, Kiku," he said simply.

"_Sorry_?!" Kiku moved towards the one person who cared, who had risked so much for him. "You _saved_ me… and the others and you've at least given Yao hope. Why would you be sorry?"

"I wanted to make _everything_ right for you," Heracles shook his head sadly.

Kiku stood before him and looked deeply into his eyes, "Why did you do this for me? Take such a chance?"

Heracles blushed, but he didn't look away, "I wanted to see you smile more often."

Raising his hands to cup the face above him, and drawing it gently towards his own, Kiku kissed him sweetly; and when Heracles raised his head to look wonderingly at him before pulling him closer… he smiled.

* * *

"_Fe-Fi-Fo-Fum,"_ …this tale of Kiku and Herc is done… **Jack and the Beanstalk (ish)**

* * *

**A/N: Govno – Shit**

**Massive gratitude to all our readers/faves/followers and reviewers – we're so grateful for all the support you're giving us with these little stories :)**

**Antonio's Christmas Angels are: TheWeaverofWorlds, Fred and George Weasley Twins, ZanyAnimeGirl, DarkMoon0327, princessofd, garryxmrchairfan, qnon, Random toria, Guest, Rey129, Katie-Kat1129, and Janders.**

**Hope to see you in a couple of days :)**

**EvilMidget6 and LieutenantProbable ;)**


	8. On the Seventh Day of Christmas

**The Twelve Gays of Christmas**

**On the Seventh Day of Christmas…**

Ivan cradled a shot glass as he stood on the balcony of the right-hand penthouse at the top of the building and thought about the possible lead he had finally found in Monstrynsky's paperwork. He had followed a tenuous trail through deposits, banking records and these had led him to some extremely odd personnel files, one of which had actually been that house-keeping girl he'd felt so concerned about. He'd hoped to discretely question and perhaps help her but now she had mysteriously disappeared. Monstrynsky had answered shortly with some offhand remark about her leaving on family business when he'd casually questioned her absence that morning, but Ivan had briefly glimpsed fury in the fleshy face. That had been enough to send him back to those files and a painstaking search had led to a small piece of information which might help. Another 'staff' member (who had again suddenly vanished!) had a brother listed in his records – and the man worked at a club nearby, perhaps Ivan could get the information he needed from _him_. Wang Yao… tomorrow night he would go to this 'Three Bears Club', _another_ piece of real estate in which it seemed they had an interest - and seek him out.

Decision made, Ivan put the matter aside and looked up at the sky above which was filled with twinkling stars. His pale hair moved gently in the breeze and the moonlight fell across his pale determined face as he sighed, drinking alone again… well he found it difficult to speak easily to people, they often found him intimidating and he didn't _know_ anyone in this city.

One particular star caught his eye as it seemed to pulse and he raised his glass whimsically towards it, one should always make a toast before drinking vodka and this was his favourite _ryabinovka _after all. For a moment Ivan's loneliness overpowered him as he recalled various times he had attempted to reach out and the responses it had gained him, 'stalker', 'brute', 'creep', no-one had ever understood him, and the words of his 'toast' came without thought.

"To the one who could learn to love this Russian 'beast'," he declared with a mirthless laugh, tossing back his drink, and turning to go back inside.

Unseen by Ivan, the star pulsed.

_When you wish upon a star, makes no difference who you are…_

* * *

The following evening, Yao looked at himself in the mirror, a twisted smile flickering briefly across the lips of his reflection.

He knew he looked good and there was a perverse pleasure in doing this, however much he might hate it… at least it kept him free of Monstrynsky. He shuddered slightly at the thought of the huge man with his thick lips and lewd insinuations, and closed his eyes for a moment in silent thanks that Leon had gotten free of him. At least his younger brother was no longer a pawn that could be used against him and was no longer in danger. Yao sensed that 'Monstro' had been losing patience - his threats the last time Yao made had been forced to meet him to make a payment had been thinly veiled. Now, he lacked that weapon, Yao had more hope, and at least he could stay _physically_ clear of the loan-shark, for that… _this_ was a small price to pay.

"_You're up in five."_

A voice called from the other side of the door, accompanied by the customary rap of the knuckles to alert him and Yao gathered up his black silk robe, casting it over his shoulders and belting it as he avoided the haunted gaze of the face in the mirror. As he turned towards the door, his eyes hardened and his face assumed its usual coolly aloof composure.

It was time to get to work and he _needed_ the money, he had an appointment tomorrow.

* * *

"_Yorsh_."

The green-eyed barman raised his eyebrows slightly, but nodded and made no other comment merely mixing beer and vodka as requested and delivering the drink smoothly before him. Ivan was impressed, so he knew of this Russian beverage – not many in London did and he usually had to explain what he was asking for.

"_Spasibo_," he muttered before correcting himself in accented English, "I thank you."

"You are welcome," the barman answered with a polite nod and Ivan detected the hint of a familiar accent in his speech. He felt an unusual flicker of interest and was about to initiate further conversation when there was a flurry of commotion at the other end of the bar.

"I know I'm like _totals_ late, Liet, but I saw an _adorable_ little teddy in the window of that place 'round the corner and I like _had_ to buy it; but I'll _totally_ wear it when I make it up to you later - so am I forgiven?"

The barman raised his eyes to the ceiling as though begging for patience, but smiled fondly too and moved off to greet the newly arrived blonde with a brief kiss before fetching him a drink.

Ivan shrugged inwardly, dismissing the pair from his mind and taking his drink he moved through the dimly lit club towards one of the small tables at the side of the room. Taking a seat he loosened his scarf and slung his overcoat across the chair-back, whilst it was chilly outside, inside this club it was really _very_ warm and he was glad he had worn only a thin cashmere jumper underneath.

It was still fairly early and the dance floor was not yet in use, but the club was beginning to get busy and a fair haired man in red and white shorts was performing under a spotlight nearby. He was currently doing the splits up the length of a pole between Ivan's seat and the DJ booth, and was perfectly balanced on one foot with the other high above. Ivan watched him idly, noting the cross tattooed on his left shoulder, but he failed to find him erotic, '_Big man with a big gun'_? Well nine-inch nails were an interesting choice he supposed and the routine certainly required a great deal of agility, but Ivan was unmoved.

Leaning back in his chair, he drank absently and glanced around the room, his violet eyes wandering from face-to-face as he wondered where the man he sought might be. 'Wang Yao' Ivan mused – the name was plainly oriental, but he couldn't see any Asian staff at present and wondered in what capacity the man was employed. Well if he didn't see him he would have to enquire at the bar, although he would rather not have advertised the reason for his visit to others.

The Blonde on the pole finished his set and threw on a robe before departing, as the music altered to a strummed guitar and another took his place after shedding his own black robe.

Ivan glanced at the new arrival and then stilled completely.

Ivory skin gleamed beneath the spotlight, as a slender figure clad only in form-fitting black shorts and his own long black hair swung himself lightly about the pole. This dancer gripped it with thighs and ankles before allowing his upper body to recline gracefully downwards, his hair falling to sweep the floor beneath him like a curtain of silk. Ivan stared at him transfixed, as a throaty male voice came over the sound system, "_I'd give up forever to touch you…"_ Ivan's grip on the glass in his hand tightened as his breathing quickened, _who_ was this stunning man? He was _beautiful,_ and Ivan _had_ to know.

He snagged a passing drinks attendant and ordered another, using the opportunity to ask, the answer almost startling though he had vaguely noticed that the performer was oriental… Wang Yao… so that was him.

"I wish to speak with him after he is done," Ivan told the attendant firmly.

The server looked unsurprised but also doubtful, "I can ask but…"

"You think he will refuse me?"

"Yao's a bit odd, he never mixes with clients…or any of us really, he's different from the rest of us – keeps himself-to-himself, I don't think you'll have much luck with him."

"Then I need to speak with the owner, tell him Monstrynsky's partner wishes to speak with him."

"You're Monstro's partner?" The server exclaimed without thought, "Sorry, I…" He faltered.

"_Da_, just deliver the message," Ivan waved him away. So they referred to him as 'Monstro', hmm… inwardly he chuckled though no hint of it showed on his stern face… how appropriate.

Ivan turned his attention back to the artiste who was now twirling about the pole with one knee on either-side, his legs curled about it and an arm outstretched, while the other supported his weight. The hair swept around and he really looked at the man's face as it shone briefly in the spotlight. Remote, cool and composed, he neither smiled nor seemed to seek any interaction with his audience but he showed no sign of strain, he was evidently far stronger than he appeared… and athletic too, Ivan's heart pounded as he watched him for some time.

"You asked to speak with me? Mister…?"

Ivan looked reluctantly away from Yao and turned towards the speaker. Blue eyes met his own beneath dark eyebrows and wild blonde hair, and the man's demeanour was wary.

"Braginsky, but you may call me Ivan," he replied, gesturing to the seat opposite his own.

"Soren Densen," the owner introduced himself, shaking Ivan's outstretched hand reluctantly after a slight pause and promptly releasing it. 'Big bastard' he thought inwardly, 'and the way he was _staring_ at Yao? _Creepy'_. "How can I help you?" He said aloud.

"I need to speak with your performer," Ivan gestured towards Yao who having completed his current 'set' was currently robing himself as he prepared to depart.

"If Yao wishes to accept your invitation that is _his_ decision; but I am afraid, this is _not_ the kind of business you seem to believe," Densen responded stiffly.

Ivan gave him a cold smile, "You make dangerous assumptions," he rebuked, "what I need to discuss is a purely business matter."

"In that case… I'll speak to him, but I cannot promise anything."

"Fair enough."

Half-an-hour later, Ivan faced Yao across the small table.

"Would you care for a drink?" The Russian asked as they faced one-another.

Yao shook his head in negation, his dark eyes weighing the man before him carefully. "Soren said this was a _business_ matter," he said coldly, "Since you are his partner, am I to assume Monstrynsky has a problem with the payment I am to make tomorrow?"

"Payment?" Ivan's ears pricked up, this sounded exactly the kind of thing he had been trying to discover.

Yao looked uncertain for the first time, "If it is not about the payment, then why _are_ you here..?" He asked.

"Oh, I think it _is_ about the payment," Ivan interrupted smoothly, "Explain it to me..."

* * *

Several hours later, Ivan fumed alone in his penthouse suite; he had _known_ there was something, and now he had found out what it was. Monstrynsky was money-lending, but more than that… he was _utterly_ corrupt – using the power he gained over those who owed to bully and blackmail.

Ivan clenched his large fists, trying to set aside his anger and disgust so he could think about exactly how to handle this. He needed to control his temper and had to get his hands on the records of these transactions so he could stop all of it, it seemed likely that many of the 'clients' had already more than repaid the sums borrowed As he thought of Yao, working on the pole as the only option available to stay out of his partner's clutches without the paperwork that was held as surety, he wanted to kill him. He longed to help Yao and found the thought of him - reluctantly forced to perform even one more time, unbearable. Well _that_ at least could be dealt with immediately.

The next morning he waited until he saw Yao arrive as expected at Monstrynsky's door and then made a call…

…What he had not expected was Yao's reaction to what he had done.

Intercepting him as he was leaving, Ivan informed him that he had cancelled the club's debt on the sole condition that his employment there was immediately terminated.

"You've done _what_?!" Yao whispered, his already pale face whitening completely. "How _dare_ you!"

Ivan didn't understand, "But you said you only worked there because you had no other choice, I have told you I would soon fix that… and I will. I'll bring Monstrynsky down, I swear it," he declared.

"But what do I do in the meantime?" Yao spat furiously, "It wasn't only the money, Den gave me a place to stay too. I had a room at the club and he looked out for me…you didn't even let me say goodbye."

"I will take care of you for now," Ivan offered and Yao looked at him as if he were mad.

"_You_?" Yao's tone was anything but grateful, "I don't know you, why would _you_ do that?" The fire behind his words seemed to suddenly die out, and his shoulders slumped as he wearily closed his eyes. "So what is it that _you_ want from me?" He asked in a deadened tone.

Ivan flushed with a mixture of anger and embarrassment as he realised what Yao believed he was after. "_Nyet_," he said urgently, "I expect nothing from you, understand? I wish only to _free_ you."

Yao looked at him with a mixture of disbelief and wary suspicion, "Why?" He asked bluntly.

"_Someone_ should look after you," Ivan muttered and Yao raised an eyebrow.

"And you've decided to volunteer? How positively primeval, I'm not a child."

"I've noticed," Ivan retorted dryly and blushed as he looked away. "For now… you can stay here – with no strings attached… I mean you no harm, Yao, you have my word."

* * *

Over the following days Ivan worked tirelessly to gain access to Monstrynsky's private files, and aided by Yao's knowledge of others in his own situation, he slowly pieced together a clearer picture of the illicit dealings.

On a personal level, little seemed to change in the relationship which existed between Ivan and Yao, though the former wished for so much more.

They dwelt together in an uneasy truce and though Ivan himself became more-and-more captivated by his 'guest', Yao remained elusive. He seemed tense and perhaps even a little frightened around Ivan though he refused to show it, and he often remained in his room when his counsel was not actively sought.

On the third day, when Yao politely declined to eat with him, Ivan lost his temper, "You will join me for dinner, and that is _not_ a request," he stormed angrily.

Yao looked at him woodenly and gave a slight bow, "Certainly, if you insist," he murmured, but over the meal he picked at his food seeming more remote than ever, and Ivan despaired – regretting his outburst.

When Yao rose from the table at the end of the meal, he tried to apologise, grasping Yao's wrist, "I'm sorry, my temper is not always what it should be." Yao flinched a little, looking down at the hand which held his wrist in a tight grip and Ivan cursed letting go at once.

"It's alright," Yao said after a moment, "I wasn't very courteous myself I suppose," he hesitated looking at Ivan awkwardly, "goodnight."

"Goodnight."

After Yao had gone to his room, Ivan sighed and poured himself a shot of vodka which he took out into the cold night on the balcony. He had hoped that staying here, perhaps Yao would lose his distrust for him and they could get to know one another, but it wasn't working out that way. Yao stayed only because he had no other option and that wasn't right, he wanted Yao to be happy.

Ivan knew that he had enough evidence now to expose Monstrynsky and have him arrested but he wanted to get Yao's papers from him first. Tomorrow - he would confront him and end this. Raising his glass in an echo of his actions only a few days before, Ivan spoke to the uncaring stars above him, "I will end it… and then, I _will_ let him go," he promised brokenly, though it would tear his heart to say that goodbye.

From the shadows of his bedroom doorway, Yao watched Ivan as he raised that glass and heard the vow which accompanied it, his face momentarily softening. The moonlight turned Ivan's hair to silver, illuminating his muscled body and outlining the strong profile and Yao gasped, reminded that he was not as immune to the tall Russian as he had at first believed… and as Ivan thought. The problem was that he still didn't _really_ trust him. How could he? It was too much of a risk and he had first-hand experience of the ruthlessness these businessmen were capable of when they wanted something… and he knew Ivan wanted him.

Yao had seen it in his eyes, and felt it in the air when they were alone together, it was one reason he had tried to limit those occasions – the other… was that he wasn't completely sure he could trust himself.

Noiselessly, Yao moved all the way back into his room and eased the door closed, before leaning against it. There he took a deep breath and tried not to imagine what it might be like to be fiercely loved by this man. Was Ivan really different? That was the question, well alcohol fuelled promises were one thing; he would see what came of them tomorrow.

* * *

"My lawyer is currently handing everything over to the police," Ivan informed his former partner scornfully the next morning, "your days of profiting from the misery of those you could blackmail are over."

"Then you are a fool," Monstrynsky spat, standing and leaning threateningly across the desk, "and I do not believe that to be true. You just want it all for yourself," he panted, jabbing an accusing finger into Ivan's chest. "Well, now that you know, I am prepared to let you in on everything… as a junior partner of course. I am quite impressed that you tried this little charade actually, it was quite cunning, and it's possible that you might actually be an asset. You haven't destroyed this little goldmine; you just want a piece of the action. Why else would you be here telling me this? Why not just leave it to the authorities if it is as you say?" He smirked triumphantly, sure he had Ivan all figured out.

"I want the papers you hold over Wang Yao," Ivan spoke sternly, his disgust evident and Monstrynsky narrowed his eyes.

"So that is how you found out," he said at last, "and he got under your skin too with his pretty face. That little _slut_."

"You will _not_ speak of him that way," Ivan stood up and for the first time Monstrynsky felt a frisson of fear at the naked anger on his face, "and you _will_ give me those papers."

His partner raised his hands calmingly, he still didn't believe the story about the police, Ivan wasn't a fool and the loan business brought in a lot of profit. "Let's be civil about this, we are both businessmen after all. If you want those papers so much, of course you may have them… consider it a gift, and perhaps then we can talk sensibly about these other matters."

Monstrynsky went quickly to his bedroom and removed Yao's paperwork from the safe and using the opportunity to take also the small pistol he kept hidden there. Walking back into the other room, he seated himself calmly, allowing Ivan a glimpse of the papers as he extended them. As the other man reached to take the sheaf he withdrew it abruptly and levelled the gun.

"I am afraid you underestimated me, Ivan." He said, shaking his head in mock sorrow, "and now I'll tell you what's going to happen. You will sign over complete control of the business to me and I'll let you live. As for that little bitch…"

He got no further as Ivan suddenly thrust the heavy desk into him, taking him by surprise, and the gun went off…

* * *

Ten minutes later, Ivan thrust a sheaf of papers into Yao's trembling hands, "It is over, Yao," he told him through whitened lips, "I knocked him out and the police are on the way, you are free of him now… and you can go wherever you want."

The documents fell to the floor unnoticed as Yao moved forward, raising a hand to the spreading bloodstain on Ivan's shoulder, "You're _hurt_!" He gasped.

Ivan shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the pain and resultant confusion. 'Yao touched me and he didn't shudder?' That was the only coherent thought which crossed his mind, 'No, it _can't_ be; I'll just ignore…' He looked into Yao's eyes and what he saw there made his heart leap almost painfully, 'he's _never_ looked at me this way before…'

"It-it's only a flesh wound," he answered aloud, stumbling over the words as he tried unsuccessfully to work out what was happening, but then he staggered.

"You're losing a lot of blood!" Yao exclaimed anxiously, "Sit down and let me at least bandage it."

"I will be fine," Ivan told him gently, "your life is your own now, you can leave."

"Do you _want_ me to go?"

"I certainly don't want you here because you feel _obligated_," Ivan snapped.

"Don't talk like that, of course you'll be all right, but I no longer _wish_ to leave you, Ivan, I trust you now. Nobody in my life has _ever_ cared about me like this; like you have _proven_ that you do and… well, I'm in love with you. I've known it but I was so scared…"

Ivan gripped his shoulders so tightly it was painful, staring into his face, "You _love_ me?" He breathed in disbelief.

"We can be together now… if you still want that?" Yao replied softly looking down.

A firm hand lifted his chin and lips met his own in an almost bruising kiss… he could feel Ivan's heart beat grow faster and faster.

"If I still _want_ that?" Ivan said huskily as he raised his head, "_Ya khochu, chtoby ty otchayanno_, I've _never_ wanted anything more." He swept a blushing Yao into his arms and headed for the bedroom.

"Ivan, your arm!"

"I'll manage," Ivan growled as he kicked the door shut behind them.

* * *

"_As the years passed, he fell into despair and lost all hope. For who could ever learn to love a beast?"_ **Beauty and the Beast, Disney.**

* * *

**A/N: We're really trying to keep up, we promise…**

"**I'd give up forever to touch you…" Iris, Goo goo dolls, ryabinovka – vodka in which ashberries have ben steeped, Yorsh – a potent mixture of vodka and beer, ya khochu, chtoby ty otchayanno – I want you desperately.**

**Huge thanks to all of you who are reading/following/reviewing/faved, we can't believe how much support you are giving us with these little tales :)**

**Romano's sparkling stars: elizabeta H. Austria, Janders, zoewinter1, DarkMoon0327, TheWeaverofWorlds, Israelle ParadiseIsis Hypnosis, EmptyAccount2, Red, princessofd, Random toria, NeverShoutMistletoe, Rey129, Katie-Kat1129 and GarryxMrChairFan!**

**Hope to see you all in a few days' time :)**

**EvilMidget6 and LieutenantProbable ;)**


	9. On the Eighth Day of Christmas

**The Twelve Gays of Christmas**

**On the Eighth Day…**

"You coming, Antonio?" Gilbert asked, getting to his feet.

"_Umm_, I think perhaps I will stay for another coffee," the Spaniard replied.

"_Oho_, I think that maybe it is not the _coffee_ that keeps you here, _mon_ _ami_," Francis smirked, "perhaps it is the view, _hein_?" Antonio glared at his friend but Francis merely winked at him before tilting his head significantly towards the kitchen. "I too saw him come in just now, Antonio, are you sure you don't want me to introduce you? He teased.

Gilbert groaned, "For fuck's sake, Antonio, you're gonna sit here watching lover-boy _again_? Stop stalking the kid and _do_ something about it, if you're _that_ hung-up on him. Or shall _I_ tell him?" He asked wickedly.

"No!" Antonio exclaimed quickly, "I don't want that, Gil; I need to approach him carefully."

All three men looked over at the counter where Lovino could now be seen, scowling fiercely and slamming things about as he muttered to himself irritably in Italian.

Gilbert laughed, "Yea, I can see that. Looks like hard work to me, Toni, you _sure_ he's worth it?"

"Oh yes," Antonio breathed, his eyes softening as they rested on the angry red face, "and very little worth having is easy to get after all, Gil."

"Hey, it's your funeral," Gilbert shrugged, "I'll see you later." He looked at his watch, "Shit, I'm late. Come on Francis, Roderich will be bitching, no doubt about it." He said the words in an off-hand voice, but he noticeably quickened his pace to the door, and moments later could be seen hurrying past the window.

Francis sighed, "It seems you are not the only one who likes hard work, _mon_ _ami_," he muttered, raising a hand to Antonio in farewell as he sauntered after Gilbert.

Antonio chuckled quietly to himself as his friends left, but his eyes drifted almost immediately back to the moody Italian who had consumed so much of his thoughts lately.

* * *

Lovino shut the cash register with a sharp push and handed the change to the waiting customer. "Grazie," he muttered curtly, looking beneath his lashes at the Spaniard seated in the corner of the café.

He had noticed that bastard here a lot lately, either with his godfather and the other who had just left, or sitting there alone over too many coffees. Did he _really_ think he wasn't being obvious? He plainly had another reason for hanging around _this_ much, someone needed to tell him that Feliciano was in a relationship now.

That thought made Lovino feel even more aggravated, _why_ was Feli so obsessed with that stupid macho-potato Ludwig? It wasn't as though his brother had lacked for admirers after all, everyone liked _him_… clearly even this idiotic, sappy ('_fucking_ _hot'_, his mind whispered aggravatingly) Spanish bastard.

Glancing over again at this persistent customer, Lovino noticed he was looking at him too. He must be wondering where Feliciano was – after all he'd been here a few times when Lovino himself hadn't been in the best of moods – and no-one ever wanted to get to know him if they'd encountered him like that. Laughing green eyes met stormy hazel and to his further annoyance Lovino felt himself blushing. The customer raised an eyebrow and tilted his head as he raised his coffee cup enquiringly, oh, he only wanted the free re-fill.

After giving an unnecessary swipe with his cloth to the already spotless counter-top while he composed himself; Lovino walked over to fetch the cup.

"Same again, _eh_?" He asked, trying not to notice how the cheerful smile he wore made this guy's whole face light up as he smiled. He _wasn't_ going to feel jealous over one of Feliciano's conquests, why would he? He never had before after all, so why would he start now?

"_Por_ _favour_," the man lifted his cup to pass it to Lovino and as their hands brushed, he felt another urge of attraction which finally pushed him into speech.

"Listen, I'm Lovino – Feliciano's brother and I think I should tell you, my brother does really work here anymore – so he won't be in," he said abruptly.

"Doesn't he?" Strange… he didn't seem disappointed, (?) just interested.

"Someone finally listened to him sing and now… well he's had his breakthrough, and he's singing full-time."

"Oh, well that's wonderful," the Spaniard seemed to be carefully considering his next words and Lovino decided to make it easy for him.

"He's in a pretty serious relationship too," he offered briefly and was not surprised when the other seemed a little taken aback. "Listen…?"

"Antonio."

"Listen, Antonio," Lovino said tersely, suppressing his fierce wish that it wasn't _Feliciano_ this man had been here for. "I wish it wasn't the case, but it looks as though it might be permanent, and in any case he certainly won't be here often now; so there's not much point _you_ hanging around… shall I forget the coffee?"

"No, Lovino, I really would like another."

Lovino shrugged inwardly as he fetched the re-fill, _cheh_, he'd told the guy, so if he wanted to waste his time, then that was up to him.

"There you go, bastard," Lovino deposited the cup and turned to move away.

"Lovino, could we talk a moment, if you don't have too much to do?"

Lovino frowned, he _really_ didn't want to rub salt in the wound by listening to Antonio talk wistfully about his brother; but since he was now the only customer, it wasn't as though he could claim to be too busy. "Sure," he grunted unenthusiastically sitting down.

"So Feliciano is singing full-time now…" Here it came, "…how is your dancing going?"

What?!

"H-how do _you_ know that I dance?" Lovino stammered.

Antonio smiled warmly at him, "Well I _am_ friends with your godfather," he reminded the younger man, "he has mentioned it.

"Oh," Lovino thought about that and supposed it made sense "Not so great," he finally admitted reluctantly, "and I've been trying for a while longer than Feli now." He looked up and a sudden lump rose in his throat at the understanding in those fucking _stunning_ green eyes that caught and held his own. "My grandfather wants me to give up and get a _real_ job," he added bitterly. Now why had he admitted _that_?

"But what do _you_ want?"

"I want to dance, but… they don't think I have the right attitude." Shit, he was turning into a fucking blabber-mouth. Lovino rose hurriedly from the table and tried to pass off his admissions, "_Hell_, maybe they're right!" He flung angrily at the shocked Antonio as he turned towards the kitchen door, "I – I need to check on something…" Pressing his lips tightly together as he felt them tremble, Lovino fought the prickling of tears as he slammed angrily through the door and hastened into the employees bathroom.

Five minutes later when he returned, Antonio was gone.

Bracing his hands on the counter; Lovino wished for the hundredth time that he was better at controlling his emotions, that he didn't get so defensive… and that Antonio had been there for _him_.

If only he was more like Feli…

* * *

The next morning after the early rush had died down, Antonio was back.

"Good morning, Lovino," he smiled at the embarrassed Italian as though their parting yesterday had been quite ordinary. "When you have a moment I have a proposition for you."

Why had the bastard come back, and what did he mean by _proposition_? Lovino scowled as he hurried to serve another arrival but the blonde guy didn't seem to notice his frown. "Hi dude, can I get a tall full-cream, extra hot split quad-shot latte with whip." The American nodded cheerfully as Lovino glared at him, his cow-lick bouncing and blue eyes full of energy.

"Does this place _look_ like a Starbucks?" Lovino demanded irritably. He really wasn't in the mood for this shit today, and Antonio had made him feel edgy.

"Well no, but…"

"Then order a real drink or go find one, dammit." From the corner of his eye Lovino saw Antonio grin to himself and winced, shit he why did he always show his worst side in these situations.

Once he'd finally sorted out the American, Lovino made his way over to Antonio.

"Listen, Antonio, I'm not interested in being a messenger to my brother…" Lovino stopped as Antonio opened his eyes very wide, clearly shocked.

"That's not why I'm here," he protested, shaking his head in apparent disbelief.

"Then what is it?"

"I had an idea after talking to you yesterday," Antonio explained, "and I went to check it out. Have you been keeping up with the auditions recently?"

"I…"

The truth was that Lovino hadn't.

The last few rejections, his grandfather's pessimism and the negative comments he had overheard about the difficulty of working with him; had all taken a toll… he'd finally begun to despair.

Antonio looked at him carefully and nodded to himself, "I thought not," he muttered softly. "Well there's one coming up in a few days' time and you'd be _perfect_ for it." Lovino wondered what show was auditioning, but before he could ask Antonio continued, "It's West Side Story."

West Side story! Lovino's heart thumped, he really _might_ have a chance as a backing dancer for _that_, he _was_ Italian after all – he could easily be 'a Shark'. "But I haven't applied… and there's no _way_ I could get the routine down in that short a time on my own…" He shook his head in regret.

"Lovino, I've been working at the theatre for quite a few months now, do you not have _any_ idea what I do?" Antonio asked, his eyes sparkling excitedly.

Lovino shook his head.

"Well I suppose we haven't had any contact, since you haven't auditioned there for a while." Antonio conceded, "I'm the choreographer."

Lovino looked at him in amazement, "You're kidding, bastard, right?"

Antonio laughed, "No, _mi_ _amigo_, I assure you I'm not. Now I obviously don't have much say over casting… but I can help you with the routine… and I _was_ able to add your name to the auditions. What do you say?"

"You'd _help_ me?" Lovino breathed, feeling dazed, "but _why_? Is it for Feli?"

"Lovino, I have no interest in your brother," Oh, so he'd realised that ship had sailed then, Lovino wondered why that felt both so good and bad all at once but he was distracted as Antonio continued. "But I _do_ have an interest in developing talented dancers…"

"You've never seen me dance, how do you know if I'm _worth_ helping?"

"Haven't I?" Antonio murmured under his breath, but to Lovino he only said, "Then allow me to find out?"

Lovino looked at him uncertainly, his emotions raging all over the place… the dread of another failure, the fearful hope that this might be his chance, his longing to dance and to succeed, the unnerving attraction he felt for this man and his wish that he hadn't been here for Feli...

"Yes," he croaked finally, the words leaving his lips almost involuntarily, "yes please, bastard, help me."

"Then find someone to fill in for a few days and let's go."

* * *

"Keep those turns crisp, Lovino, they must be snappy," Antonio instructed firmly, "like this." He demonstrated the move briefly, spinning swiftly in place with arms out before moving smoothly into a backward glide and turn, fingers clicking heels tapping sharply on the floor. "The combination of Salsa and Swing is energetic but controlled."

As Lovino repeated the sequence, Antonio watched him closely; in truth he was merely fine-tuning he knew, as Lovino was already beautiful to watch.

Once he had learnt the moves yesterday, he had begun to dance this routine as though it was made for him. He was athletic and managed the more acrobatic movements easily, the leaps and turns graceful, but capturing the action and uneasiness of the storyline with style. Antonio felt his stomach clench as he watched the slim form whirl, muscles flexing smoothly, a fine sheen of sweat dampening his vest and causing it to stick to his body even more closely. _How_ he desired him.

"Good, catch your breath and we will take it from the top, all the way through; I will dance the female part," Antonio instructed as Lovino completed the last move perfectly.

Lovino flashed him a delighted smile and nodded, forgetting to feel self-conscious. His pleasure in doing what he loved erased the habitual moodiness from Lovino's face and Antonio drew in a swift breath at the sight of him like this, fighting the impulse to walk over and throw caution to the winds.

His resolution was tested many times over the few days they trained together.

Holding Lovino as they danced (Antonio taking the female roles), Lovino breathless and exhilarated, laughing or pouting as he concentrated hard, their faces sometimes only inches apart… Antonio yearned to let him know how much more he wanted so desperately.

But he waited. Now was not the time, he was too needy, too vulnerable. Lovino had to find confidence in himself first, perhaps then they would find a future together too.

* * *

Had he but known it, Lovino was equally frustrated.

Why, why, _why_! Could he not have met Antonio like this from the very first? Lovino wasn't stupid and he knew that as a choreographer, the older man would have seen many dancers better than he was, but they still had this in common, right? Antonio didn't seem to find him difficult or unpleasant to work with either – it was like being someone else. Somehow, here like this, with Antonio steadying him, Lovino found he felt more confident, the old frustration and anger (at himself more often than not) seemed to melt away and he felt more relaxed than he could ever remember.

Perhaps, if he had met Antonio _this_ way, it could have been himself the Spaniard desired, instead of his infinitely sweeter and more loveable brother.

Dancing with Antonio, holding him and being held, Lovino longed for more. As the deep green eyes held his own with such confidence in him, he wanted to live up to that – and as he _burned_ to feel those lips against his own, he wished, oh how he wished he was different…

Separate, but filled with such similar emotions, they danced on…

…and when the day of the auditions arrived, Lovino felt that he was ready.

* * *

Until that is, the next morning – when he stood alone, the focus of all eyes on the stage.

In the changing rooms beforehand, Lovino had heard all the same mutters among many of his peers, "What's _he_ doing here?" "Haven't they _heard_ about what he's like?" "Don't worry, he'll blow it anyway, throw a tantrum or something, _he_ always does."

By the time he was due to perform, the newfound blaze of his confidence had almost completely died away. The old bitterness and self-doubt smothering him until only a small, feeble flicker remained. As he walked slowly out onto the stage, Antonio, who was one of the watching team, perceived the slump of his shoulders and frowned, he had some idea of what had probably occurred backstage and his lips tightened.

"_Un_ _momento_," he whispered urgently to the others, before striding quickly forward to stand beneath Lovino's gaze. "Lovi," he called softly to the forlorn figure, "show those bastards how it's done."

Lovino looked down into the face of his mentor, and what he could see there… the _belief_ he could see in his eyes, began to fan the embers of his faith. _Antonio_! Antonio had helped him and had confidence in him, he was _counting_ on him to show what he could do and Lovino didn't want to let _him_ down. He nodded, and as a smile blazed across Antonio's face, an answering, if more unsure one began to curve Lovino's lips, he _would_ do this!

The music rang out, head high and shoulders back; Lovino threw himself across the floor.

* * *

The lists of the performers who had been chosen, both the main cast and the backing dancers were pinned up backstage within the hour.

As the other hopefuls crowded around the board, Lovino felt sick and decided to wait until they were done; what if he still hadn't made it? Antonio would be so disappointed in him, and he'd _never_ have better preparation than this. This was 'make or break' time.

Watching from across the room as some dancers turned sadly away disappointed, while others hugged jubilantly, Lovino noticed a few sidelong glances cast his way – although no-one said anything to him. It seemed a very long time, before at last the board lay deserted.

Taking a deep breath, Lovino walked over and scanned the backing list, then gasping and trembling, he read it once more – this time carefully… but his first glimpse had not deceived him.

His name wasn't there.

Snatching up his things as tears blurred his vision and his throat choked up, Lovino hurtled out of the changing rooms and into the alleyway behind the theatre, sobs crowding his throat. So now he knew, his grandfather and all the others had been right all along. It wasn't going to happen. He just _wasn't_ good enough and didn't have whatever it took.

There was no-one else present in the alley, he wasn't going to make it home… and he _couldn't_ go into the busier street. Dropping his belongings onto the dirty floor, Lovino leant against the old, red bricks of the building in which he had hoped to succeed. Then he covered his face with his hands as he cried out his heartbreak.

"Lovino?" A hand was placed upon his shoulder before another moved to cup his cheek as a concerned face swam into view. Oh no! He just _couldn't_ face Antonio now! Lovino tried to turn away, wanting to hide his weakness and tears.

"_Please_, Antonio, not now," he managed to whisper in a broken voice all his defences finally broken down. "I'm so _sorry_ that I failed you."

"Failed _me_, _mi_ _amado_? How could you possibly have done that?" Antonio asked gently.

"I thought I would make it this time, Antonio." Lovino replied despairingly, missing the endearment. "I really did. The help you gave me was so much _more_ than just the coaching, although that was amazing too. If I didn't make it _now_ then I _never_ will, I'll have to find something else…"

"What are you talking about, Lovi?" Antonio gave him a small shake. "Did you not _see_ the cast lists?"

"I read it _twice_, bastard," Lovino snapped, finally goaded into a temper, "out of twenty names, I could hardly have missed it if _my_ name was there, dammit."

"_Twenty_…? Lovino, did you only check the backing dancers?"

It seemed to Lovino that the world lurched and began to spin slowly around him. "_What_?!" He croaked, as Antonio saw him sway and caught him close.

"They all thought you were _stunning_, you made the _main_ cast, _mi_ _amor_," Antonio chuckled, "Chino, second-in-command of the Sharks…the one who kills Tony; _he's_ hot-tempered and fiery too."

"_What_ did you call me?" Lovino gasped, the other news could wait for the moment.

Antonio went to release him as colour rose faintly to his cheeks, "I apologise…" He began awkwardly.

"_No_ _wait_!" Lovino panted, searching his face. "I thought… I _always_ thought it was _Feli_ you were interested in? I was so bad-tempered in front of you, how _could_ you want me?"

"_Feli_?!" Antonio looked stunned, "You _really_ believed that for all this time, Lovino? Your brother is very sweet, but it has _always_ been _you."_ He shrugged, looking deeply into the hazel eyes, "Your temper? You have so much passion, Lovino, no; it was _you_ who brought me back for so much coffee. I confess that I had _hoped_ working together to prepare you for this might bring us together, but I had almost given up."

"I _wished_ that it was me though, bastard," Lovino said quietly, dropping his eyes. He no longer sounded angry at all and Antonio raised his chin with one finger, leaning hopefully closer.

"_Lovino_?" He breathed the name like a question.

"_Yes_."

Pressed tightly together and lost in one another at this most precious first moment, neither noticed the dinginess of the alleyway behind the theatre, and indeed it didn't matter, as the bright lights within were waiting for both of them.

* * *

"_He rustled his feathers, curved his slender neck, and cried joyfully, from the depths of his heart, "I never dreamed of such happiness as this, while I was an ugly duckling."_ **The Ugly Duckling, Hans Christian Anderson.**

* * *

**A/N: mi amado – my beloved, mi amor – my love**

**West Side Story - an American musical with a book by Arthur Laurents, music by Leonard Bernstein, lyrics by Stephen Sondheim, and conception and choreography by Jerome Robbins. It was inspired by William Shakespeare's play Romeo and Juliet. The musical explores the rivalry between the Jets and the Sharks, two teenage street gangs of different ethnic backgrounds.**

**Well – we're not going to complete before Christmas as we had hoped, RL has just been too busy, though we will get at least one more update posted before the 25****th****. The remainder will be up before the New Year :)**

**Huge thanks as ever to all our readers/faves/followers and reviewers – you give us such fabulous support!**

**In the bad-touch trio's Christmas hamper are: GarryxMrChairFan, Katie-Kat1129, Rarity the Sewaddle, ZanyAnimeGirl, zoewinter1, Decimus Yna, DarkMoon0327,** **Rey129, Fred and George Weasley Twins, Janders, Israelle ParadiseIsis Hypnosis, Random toria, TheWeaverofWorlds, The Sandman's Daughter and elizabeta H. Austria.**

**Thanks so much for sticking with us. Happy Christmas (or other holiday) to everyone :)**

**EvilMidget6 and LieutenantProbable ;)**


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